Friday, April 25, 2014


Huh. I just remembered
that when we finally kissed for the first time, it was easter
exactly ten years ago.

It's a lovely piece of jewelry,
I'll give that to you,
I was surprised.
Just what I would've wanted,
and it looks lovely on her -
a rock as big as the lump
rising in my throat.

Age 13, champagne leanings.
Age 15, five-hour phone calls.
17: a candlelit kiss on Good Friday.
18: a marriage proposal on my birthday (Christmas),
"So... when are we going to Vegas?" (That had always been the plan.)

They keep coming...
stolen moments on car hoods
silent treatments
and all the goddamned songs.
Age 21: fooling around in the closet of your childhood bedroom
down the hall from where
I kissed you as a kid. I interrupted you
blasting Elton John on vinyl
painting the bathroom for your mom.
I remember there being a lot of spit
but it didn't seem weird or gross. It was just you.
As though I'd kissed you every day of my life, and would.
Fuck, I remember it all:
from the sweatshirt you wore your entire sophomore year of college
to the tassels on your dress shoes
at your eighth grade graduation.

My heart might never feel as full
as it became every time you appeared.

I'm so happy to see you settle in,
but I can't help this feeling like
everyone else is running
and I'm just walking in place.
"Are we ever going to sleep together?"
I asked the last of the several times you broke my heart.
"I don't know. Maybe someday,"
and the last thing I remember about that night
was chain-smoking in my hallway
professing profusely that "no one will ever love you like I do."
And you sitting there looking sad and ashamed until
I drank enough to black out.
How embarrassing.

I'm settling in too -
seeing someone I think I'll be with a while.
To be honest, I don't think he'll ever ask me to---
but then again,
I've always been one to wait.