Tomorrow

When the day is Today,
Tomorrow seems so far away.
When you’re not making me pancakes Today,
Tomorrow is like, really stinkin’ far away.
I want to take Today and smash
it in the driveway,
run it over with my car,
then burn it with matchsticks and lighter fluid until
ashes of Today float into the air, never to return.
Today is so.......what’s that word?
LONG.
Because Today is certainly not Yesterday
when I saw the smirk on your face
when I sang that Alicia Keys song
at the top of my lungs in the car,
and you said I was ridiculous,
but I KNOW you meant that you love me,
and no other girl makes you smirk like that,
and I woke you up with a story about my dream
with the baseball bats, and Tom Hanks,
and double-headed cyclops eating bombpops in the bathroom
But that was Yesterday,
which was significantly more exhilarating than Today,
sharing hands and cups of coffee and six packs of beer
with homemade chicken and dumplings.
And, god, I wish Today would just throw itself off a cliff.
I wish I could take a “nap” with you Today.
Because we both know that “naps” are just code language for a
little afternoon delight in the daylight,
We could “nap” Today just like we did Yesterday,
but Today we have responsibilities, Today we are not together,
and it’s driving me out of my mind, and it makes me crazy to wonder
if I induce the same insanity on your brain,
and I wish I were freaking Einstein so I could invent a time capsule
that would beam us into Tomorrow,
and I would make you chocolate chip cookies,
because I know they’re your favorite,
and then we would play trivial pursuit until you let me win,
because I really, really hate losing,
and then we would watch one of those awful indy movies you can’t get enough of,
where everyone cries, and dies, or tries to run away to Toronto
with a coke-addict they met on the subway,
and I would fall asleep in your lap while you brushed brown hair
behind my ear,
and then you would wake me to love me because you couldn’t wait
until morning,
and then we would sleep, you to my left, arm over my chest,
breathing in sync, legs tangled, sheets mangled, smiling through dreams,
knowing Tomorrow we wake in each others arms,
and Today is just a little sliver of history.

three words

Sometimes when I’m alone
I think about it.
Damn, I think about it even when
I’m surrounded.
Think about what it might be like
to say it. To you.
How maybe the world would stop turning
for a split second,
and maybe you might listen more
attentively than ever before.
Maybe the sheets on my bed would turn
to blue,
and my pillow, a ship,
to sail us to the middle of the ocean.
And there I would say it
again,
and again,
and again,
until you saw my words float on top
the rippled surroundings.
And maybe you would say it
too.

no you?

no you?
no star-lit summer skies.
no you?
no crunchy, caramel leaves.
no blank pages
in want for words,
not a single silver nickel
shining brightly on the sidewalk.
this world with no
you
is no world of great worth,
of course,
days will still come,
nights will still fall,
babies will cry
and mothers will coo them to sleep.
but with no you,
the days will be dimmer,
the nights will be longer,
and i will sleep lighter
in hopes of hearing steps on my walkway

have i loved you

Scarcely,
through dark-paned glass,
have I wanted you.
Rarely,
though I’ve wanted,
have I held you.
Barely,
Hardly,
Deeply,
have I loved you.

Nice

You came to me between the hours
and the alcohol
that drenched us.
Instantly hoping for your hands
I waited.
Sprinkled silver through my fingers
the first time like magic,
ravaged.
Unable to reason through
a fog of need,
wanting touch
after touch,
after touch.
Late nights made
late mornings,
and afternoon sheets ripped
off bodies in hot desire.
Bold-faced proclamations
obviously not your style,
and I fell.
Fell hard for dry wit
and unshaven cheeks,
and I think I like you.
I think this feels nice.

If I were a lesbian

If I were a lesbian,
If I were a LESBIAN,
I would date Salma Hayak,
(if she’d have me),
because that woman has got it goin’ on,
Or maybe a Janis Joplin,
and she could sing me a melancholy song,
and we would roll a joint together, and wear colorful scarves,
speak freely and get tattoos of magic mushrooms,
If I were a lesbian,
I would date all kinds of women,
but I think I’d prefer a creative type,
like Dickinson or Angelou,
we would write sonnets and create rhyme schemes
unheard ‘til our love bloomed,
Maybe I would go for brains and genius,
Madame Curie or Pearl S. Buck,
with a hiked up skirt and a whole lotta luck,
I could convince the likes of Catherine Zeta,
or Jessica Alba to get with this,
I’d have them drooling over my quick wit
and soft, pink lips.
If I were a lesbian I wouldn’t want that Pitt fellow
and I wouldn’t need Clooney, helloooo,
I would be so pleasantly pleased with my sexuality,
I would probably be approximately.....8 times more promiscuous,
because sex would be safer and significantly less conspicuous,
because really? Where can you NOT have lesbian sex?
All you need is a blanket to camouflage those flexible fingers!
And honestly, I would never not linger in lingerie stores,
because I swear those signs are basically soft porn,
And, out? I would be soooo out.
I would be the most out.
Not because I’m stronger,
But because I’ve seen what being “in” does
to a woman,
and “in” is enforced by intelligent, intellectual,
integrated individuals,
and it is insane that anyone should feel afraid
to be who they are in this day and age,
And this is for all the hot shot,
not shit,
small dick,
threesome wishin’,
insecure mother fuckers
who say,
-yeah, I’m cool with some chicks gettin’ down,
but two men, that’s just plain wrong-
This is for every spunky sorority sister
who makes out with her best friend at frat parties,
and come Monday says,
-oh ya know, I’m not bi or anything,
it must have been the bacardi-
baby, if all you want is the attention,
then makeout to your heart’s content,
but if you wake up next to your boyfriend come morning
and wish you had a smooth-skinned, soft-lipped woman
instead, then girl, stop foolin’ yourself,
I don’t blame you,
I blame us, the multitude,
for making the closet so comfortable.
So if I were a lesbian,
I would tell young girls to follow their hearts,
and shut their bibles,
to love courageously,
live unashamedly,
to hold their girlfriend’s hand,
to kiss her in the stands at a football game,
yeah, if I were a lesbian,
I guess I’d do things just about the same,
with the one minor difference.

I'll be

If you’ll let me,
I will be yours.

I’ll be your yes
and your no,
your fast and your slow,
the beat in your breast,
the tattoo on your chest.

I’ll be the the pink
on your cheek,
and the dream in your sleep,
I’ll fill all of your spaces
with lovely temptations,
and color your eyes
with star-purple skies.

And the warmth of your coffee?
That will be me.
And the flowers in spring?
Those too I’ll bring,
and the wet on your neck,
and the sun in your step,
I’ll be those too,
I’ll be them all
for you.