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| The adductors are strained from compensating for the torn hamstring.
I think thats kind of nice.
Muscles can be so selfless sometimes. | | |
| Compromise
tomorrow
you drive up from Foxborough,
i'll drive down from Beverly.
on thursday
buy expensive cheese
and i'll invest in dryer sheets.
and next year
i'll move out to Portland,
if you take my last name. | | |
| tap tap tap tap tap taptap taptap taptap taptaptaptaptaptap
Its raining in Boston. On September 30th.
This is just one night out of the year.
136 days of the year
it rains
on our roof, we haven't built yet
on the porch and treehouse. the
island in the kitchen
the chimney
I'm stunned.
we're so safe here, in our future house. nothing can penetrate our plans
except this rain, these torrents of contentment
that saturate our present with the thought of things to come. | | |
| GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.
I'm frustrated.
I'm not crying about it. For some reason I usually have a hard time letting myself "cry about it."
Especially if its a boy.
There's chemistry and chaos and comfort and confidence. Or... sometimes no confidence.
The third letter of the alphabet.
What happened to A and B?
I gave you two options:
A: You tell me you don't want to talk about it and I stop annoying you with questions.
B: You help me ask the questions that I should ask. And you answer them.
NOT AN OPTION:
Telling me I should keep studying when you actually want me to talk with you.
I'm not frustrated because sometimes we can't communicate perfectly. I expect that. I'm not frustrated because we misinterpret each other's facial expressions sometimes. Of course we do.
I'm frustrated because it matters so much to me.
Because the people who love you the best can hurt you the most.
The people who put you most at ease make you stutter most awkwardly.
The person whose opinion matters most can shatter you just by turning his head away at the wrong second.
When you need him to listen.
Because you need him to listen.
Because him listening matters more than anyone else listening.
I'm frustrated because
I know I won't let myself stay frustrated. And we will choose option B.
I know because of rainy Saturdays
when I'm outside in the yard, balancing on the cinder block
and i see him through the window
bare chest wet hair
the morning summer fog on the porch
(i'll bring the towels inside on my way in)
...or maybe leave them out. We'll lie on them in the rain.
"Come down to me. Come lie in the rain with me."
He smiles, he fogs up the glass with his breath.
He fogs up the limitations in my head
with his breath.
| | |
| these words are just
refrigerator magnets.
him & her
&
you & me.
as convoluted
as that
old, old macaroni
in that tupperware
that stupid lid-
i had to forge a fit.
i compromised.
like cheap champagne at midnight.
its not that it wasn't good
the first time around.
but time is a bitch
and we are best before
this printed date
this fast approaching expiration
Stop. i think
that might be moldy
i'd empty it at least
at arms length
maybe right into the sink.
red peppers. heavy whipping cream.
so few things age as well as wine
and magnet poems
hardly ever rhyme. | | |
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