EDUCATED GUESS
I hate hello the way you really hate goodbye,
Veins in my chest blue, like the streets of Chefchaouen,
I take a breath, bite my lip and look at the sky.
Hazy days, strong mint tea: these days I glorify,
Petals bleed like blood red koi fish in the fountain,
I hate hello the way you really hate goodbye.
To miss something is in essence to testify,
To better days and better suns and better things.
I take a breath, bite my lip and look at the sky.
I dream of monarchs and a royal butterfly,
Smells of fresh couscous and cinnamon orange peels,
I hate hello the way you really hate goodbye.
Emerald, sapphire, ruby red, and tiger’s eye:
Feeling full, warm bricks are heavy beneath my feet,
I take a breath, bite my lip and look at the sky.
My eyes fiend of traffic, the streets begin to cry,
I wonder, I listen, and I ask myself why.
I hate hello the way you really hate goodbye,
I take a breath, bite my lip and look at the sky.
ONE LITER, ONE LITER, ONE LITER
There are fresh stains on the aztec-wanna-be carpet,
From too much sickly and sticky and suffocating red wine,
The bags under my eyes make me feel like an artist,
A baseline to define the uglier side of the grape vine.
I think of pomegranate seeds and my most recent paper cut,
And imagine one day I’ll tell lies that matter,
I wonder if my ailments come from a who or a what,
But for my own sake I always assume the latter.
I hear the mat swallow the truth and smatterings of paint,
Preparing to throw up shards of sea glass and turpentine,
It is hard to tell if it is aloofness or constraint,
I watch the clock, am reborn and so I start to redefine.
Is the drunk Dalmatian rug I despise ruined or christened with age?
Scrubbing until my knees are torn as if I don’t know I can’t undo the past,
Everything’s fine, my genuine favorite lie of omission and rage,
I remember when we had hope, dragged it in from the building’s trash.
It is about an illusion of cleansing that makes me feel better sometimes,
When I can’t fall asleep to the hum of a busted fan in the summertime.
SILVER SPOONS AND TELEPHONE WIRE NECKLACES
Somewhere barely outside the Northwest loop, I was all
fed up with the stories about your acupuncture
hobby, questioning semantics and rolling my eyes
back hard enough to feel it in my sorry fingers.
We met, we split a cab and a bottle from O’Hare
I was to Indianapolis as you were to
St. Louis, the flights were cancelled but we didn’t mind
until I did, per claustrophobia turned into
tireless rest, your sweater vest, your empty closet and
your empty closeness, your empathetic hopelessness.
You stopped at a friend’s house by Garfield and I waited
outside with a heavy brown paper bag for company
the pulls I was taking made me clench my jaw and the
men on the porch laughed at me, I was so young that day.
I can taste you in my gag reflex, when I’m dizzy
and acutely aware of the gum on the bottom
of my shoe, I retrace our steps which are my steps now
and I miss you in shades of car sickness
in the hues of the Chicago Police Department
uniforms, the umbra of burning citronella
plumes only meant to keep July mosquitos at bay
in your treasure chest and in my newly sunken chest.
You loved those relics the way that I loved making you
jealous: solo cups in shades of fire engine red and
royal blue, a snipping of a telephone wire
little silver spoons and needles with orange backings
the crowded keychain that tethered you to nothing but
the past, I swear I could feel it when every lock changed
it was never your fault, the subway map on your arm
or the misbehaving, I was misremembering
Like honey your words were syrupy and stung like something
I’d like to say: I had the worst luck with my first love
but it might be on me for having no doubt when you
were strung out, and I was alone in those crowded rooms.
oh my god, on my youth, of my blessings and counting them
when we saw that train car go off the track I knew it
was over. I could not look, you could not look away
my dark eyes were burning but there was no sun that day.
I’ve noticed there is a lack of transportation here
No buses, the coffee burnt in the pot this morning anyway.
19 CRIMES
How do I despise you? Let me count all the ways.
I despise you from the top of your arrogant bald head,
To the bottom of your crooked, ugly fat toes,
I despise the smirk that never leaves your dumb lips...
And I especially hate the way you scrunch your nose,
I hate how you actually think you know it all,
Horn-rim glasses aside, you seem so blind to me.
You can’t speak my language: I wish you’d let me be.
I loathe how much I miss you after so much time,
I miss borrowing your preppy maroon sweaters,
Staying up spilling powder and all my secrets:
I even miss that absolutely shitty red wine.
If this is a joke, I’m waiting for the punchline,
New corks on old bottles feel like a twisted sign.
RED VELVET CIGARILLO
You hold people in your hands like water,
Shake me around until I’m motion sick,
Forgetting, I am just someone’s daughter.
Mind twists, erupts in our alma mater,
Rosy cheeks, wishing to be anemic
You hold people in your hands like water.
Ruby red, linen smell, childlike slaughter,
In bedroom’s comfort skins no longer thick,
Forgetting, I am just someone’s daughter.
Mirages say maybe you could spot her,
Sensitive souls or paper cuts I lick,
You hold people in your hands like water.
Crimson sky, the local police blotter,
Crocodile tears and smudged lipstick,
Forgetting, I am just someone’s daughter.
Living on my frail wrist like a squatter,
Heavier and harder every knick,
You hold people in your hands like water,
Forgetting, I am just someone’s daughter.