i'll tell you what she
said to me once,
spoken from her slender
current, the one that runs from
top to bottom:
she said -
and i relay this
as a boy would
because i was a
boy when she
said it
she said -
and i find myself
of a changed mind
these days, reflective
as onyx-colored ice
she said -
and by no means
should you, my friend,
feel the least bit imposed
upon to be quieted
she said -
and this was at a time
of lots of turbulent records
playing in my brothers'
bedroom upstairs
she said -
and i am as diminished
as dust blown from the
corners of long lived-in
rooms made of sand
she said -
and truth be told,
i was one never so
possessed by the flavors
of love as i am now
she said -
and i recognize the
sin-stained look on
your brow when you
smiled at your hands
she said -
and we had a wonderfully
lunatic german shepherd
at the end of our road that
chased kids on bikes
she said -
and it was in the summer
of the year my oldest brother
left for college and took all
of his albums and his long shadow
she said -
and i am leaving out the most
purulent parts of this life;
the parts in which there was much
crying, because they came a bit later
she said -
and outside the heat did
a dance of solitude with a
good enough breeze that
i could feel in the eyes
she said -
she said -
"stop crying. you'll be ok"
and that rank flavor
of blood from my tongue,
and the rash-burn down
one arm, and the skinned-
swollen knee, and the
fucking bike that bucked me
off, and the laughing sister,
and the holy hymns thumping
down from my brother's room,
and the german shepherd who
got in the way ...
she kissed away with coveted words
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