West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue I go to the grocery store And I run right into you Ask me how things are back home Do your days ever feel terribly long I say, I have to go Think I know the place where I belong
Hollywood, Los Angeles at dusk Her perfume smelled like camellias that bloom in November They look just like roses, so naturally I’m obsessed Swing the door open to a settled fire, Capture in my hands: tiny, soft embers Collapsing into moonlight, but Cradled like dust I’ll be strong for both of us If I must
Love poem: Grocery store [continued]
You have to feed your nostalgia sometimes It’s really the only way that you’ll survive It’s how you keep the dreams alive It’s the only way they’ll see you on the other side
West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue When I go to the grocery store I always look for you
Fresh lint from the dryer My niece is crying Because a boy pulled a baby-pink ribbon straight from her hair & I told her, don’t worry He didn’t take anything real from you The most genuine things are More intangible than they seem
So now I’m at the laundromat Watching my lavender and velvet blanket dry Something too delicate of material to end up in this white, vacant space But I have already been charged For a thousand liar’s crimes Not my own, but it’s easy to take the blame When the minds of the reckoners aren’t something you can change
Love poem: Passenger door // grocery store [continued]
I used to dream about being held By someone so powerful That they could both start and end bar fights for me Think I was in my early twenties So my wildest visions Would make little sense to someone truly thinking of settling down You have to act your age In this kind of upscale town
Then you handed me a receipt Me, counting your naturally full lashes How strong they must be and if only Mine were too To resist my pulling them out When I both do and don’t have free time Which my mother would say is a crime But laugh with me thereafter Because true love doesn’t see you in black or in white Genuine love both does and does not fight
Love poem: Passenger door // grocery store [continued]
Your voice was alarming Because it began softening Every tense fibre locked and chained to itself within my body I warm my shivering shoulders with how hotly My breath is on evenings Like this one, in which I could not care less about who or what surrounds you and me They are just bodies And you are warm nectar That only the most tender of creatures know how to find
I showed up on time Your shift is almost over But I am too shy So, I take my bags Spill a few things, say it’s alright “You don’t have to help me” (Oh man, but I want you to) Pretend I have plans when you ask what I’m doing (I am such a poor liar, the truth practically stained on my teeth)
I want you to go sit in the driver’s seat Open the passenger door for me
Angel wings, soft graphite I’ve got this new leash on life A bench post that I, chill at, beneath the sun I’ll tell you everything I know about the people that I’ve never met in person I’ve yet to see the sidewalk blossom Though I believe it to be possible A fawn in a garden An encyclopedia of your expressions You picked me at the right time, and I’ll show you exactly how and why
Monrovia boulevard, hit a truck and left a sticker How hospitable Of me in my rather formal attire A ballroom gown for our afternoon at the coffee shop You tell me I’m so glamorous Let me know you think I know it, too I laugh like I’m tossing marbles and we’re Little kids running From the porch To the garden
Love poem: Grey sky lifespans (delicate) [continued]
I say things that don’t make any sense at all And you smile because you just understand You get why grey skies make me feel like Watching thunderstorms from my bedside window You get why I’m so scared of heights, but I want nothing more than to fall off skyscrapers It looks fun to me It feels nice to think A freedom I can’t paint Paper I can’t afford From the store with the caution tape that you wrap me up in I’ll bite
You have houseplants and I like that Tending to something without wanting more from it in return Down to Earth, high and dry, the mailbox was bent and broken Like someone had knocked it over I was vacillating between fixing something with my bare hands and coming across as an intruder Polite political statements You left dandelions for me on the hood of my car I think you and I are something I would like to take part of
Love poem: Grey sky lifespans (delicate) [continued]
You touch my teeth I collect twigs for the front of your door Discussing orientation of lenses and why people never end up treating you the way you would think I try my best (starting today) not to analyze so, But chaos is a burning structure of loss With you having a favourite brand of dental floss You’re awfully loyal to.
You are a wave made out of rain and when your current reaches me I disappear underwater and discover parts of myself I believed to be missing Thinking I could benefit from being more forgiving As long as I held on tightly to myself I found you on the shore, sitting on your surfboard, and you told me it was a curse to see so much With Baby’s Breath and seaweed in my hair, I laid my head on your right broad shoulder Believing it to be worth it Invariably
Love poem: Grey sky lifespans (delicate) [continued]
Eighteen captured photographs on film Of me – pathetic, alive, detailed In sudden gaps I see again my personal agency And how if you’ll come with me
Butterflies will sign documents Stating they no longer want such short lifespans
