part one

1. your nose
2. your distracting jawline
3. your stubborn positivity
4. the humility of your upbringing
5. the complexity of your upbringing
6. your love of shopping
7. your willingness to give
8. the honesty of your pain
9. the art buried into your instincts
10. your passion for celebration
11. the sincerity of your tears
12. the sincerity of your touch
13. watching you eat a chilli dog
14. that you dislike scary movies
15. that you like mushrooms
16. your eyes
17. ok, your body entirely
18. that we are mosaics that have settled for along time for finger-paintings. they are abundant, easy and very fun but were never ready to see all our complex parts. their idea of us as a whole was incomplete, and when, inevitably they were faced with the details of what life next to such a muddled work of art looked like up close they mishandled us or we simply could no longer endure the simplicity. now between one another, each piece makes sense, is beautiful on it's own accord and in terms of the whole. we are surely uncommon. we are surely wasted when entirely devoted to the common. we are no longer adrift in finger-paintings.
19. your martini order
20. that you aren't afraid to work
21. when you get snarky
22. that you will drive anywhere
23. your honest love of sushi
24. your honest love of people beyond race or disposition
25. the way you take photographs
26. the instantaneous stress of a missing key or misplaced object
27. your affection of harry potter
28. that your heart beats so hard i can feel it through your ribs
29. the gravity you assign to celeste green, errr turquoise
30. when we grab furniture that someone else has thrown out
31. the way you eye baking items when we shop for kitchen things
32. your love of a grocery store
33. your commitment and indifference to your cat

what has been, what will be, come to this one end, this present. lessons from bed.

lit bulb

when you redefine the function of a bed.
feathers
the entwined cotton
the hum
of an air conditioner.
the red glow of digital clocks,
and the creaking of an old wooden house we are too involved to hear.

together.

they take the agency of all the globe ive ever known.
they are the busy streets i stumbled into.
the bars i shoved across.
the taxis i pushed into.
the reverberating walls i leaned on for support.
the ground i crawled on to find my wallet's contents.
the girls that yelled, swung, brooded and went cold.
the end tables, coffee tables, bar stools, and periodic tables
i fell into, i crashed right through, or blew.
the sum of a history comes,
    reeling
to a lone focus,
in a simple room. we are
      heavy
   matter.

all the time i've ever poured
out, like an apathetic exhale

is now heavy on you. wrapped around,
mussed up, and across whatever part
of your structure i am nearest.

and then our arms and feet,
wind 'round like vines.
dangle off the edge among
clothes
clothes
pillows.

fingertips,
tracing lips or slip
down along

your cathedral ribs,
magnetic hips.

middle america: i thought i could never love you, so entirely sorry.

light rays bend along the surface
heat, oh Ohio roads.

yellow lines chop at you
asleep. these arteries of interstate
we circulate, to go
home. oh, Ohio moans...

for more sense,
more dinners in small kitchens,
more friends.

and we,
Ohio's own.
a cake lover and a heavy handed drink.
we bend light,

across our surface heat.
and we,

remind our dear thing,
our adopted city,
to beat,

life out, across,
through it's streets.

oh Ohio, oh sanctuary, oh my Melanie.
time always goes on,
shaping the simple grace, that,
before we bore scars,
before history and broke hearts,
we couldn't see.