Monthly Archives: February 2010

Everyone’s Free

I always hate getting out of the pool in early spring. I pull myself out of the water I’ve grown to feel warm enough in and then I’m instantly shivering in the breeze as rivers run down my spine and legs. My towel never seems close enough or big enough or warm enough. I try and dry off enough so I can get inside and out of the bathing suit that clings cruelly to my damp skin. It’s not always like this though. Sometimes I get out and find it warmer than I imagined it would be. I don’t have to desperately fight the goosebumps with furious toweling. Instead I can feel the sun warming my very core as the drips dry off my skin. I can spend a while longer outside and slow life down.

I sometimes feel that way when I’m around you. Especially when you show up at my apartment and I’m not expecting you, and I’m wearing some old shirt from high school, and my hair’s in a side pony-tail, and you tell me I look cute. That you just miss me sometimes and end up here. You are the warm day in spring that makes everyone free. I dream of having everyday feel like summer because you’re here with me.

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Down Fairview Avenue

We walked down the dark street
following the bouncing light
of our flashlights
and hoping
we’d someday remember this night.
Our time to be young!
Whatever that truly meant.

There weren’t many cars
and the town had rules against streetlights.
It gave us a taste of exhilarating vulnerability
to be out so late in the black night.

We climbed over the wooden fence
at the end of the street
and walked quickly through the chilly orange groves.
The faint sound of the wind in the leaves
and our shoes in the wet dirt
were the only things we could hear.

After a short while we were far enough.
It felt like we owned the world here
where no other noise reached us.
We sat down on our old blanket
and fell entirely silent
and watched twinkly stars
fall towards us.

Youth doesn’t always feel like it’s shown in movies
but this was one of the nights
that seemed fictional as we lived it.

P.S. Thanks for the thoughtful comments 🙂


Cardiac Chords

Your voice is like a campfire for me.
It makes me feel like worn-in corduroy
and sweet honey in tea,
or wrapped into a perfect down comforter.
Like I’m in middle
between the most genuine people in the world.
I want your voice as a sweater
to wear each and every day.
Or in liquid form so I could
drink it up
more than I already am.
I hear colors I can’t explain
and feelings I can’t express
running through my bones.
Without it, I’m desperately deprived.


settle into the end of today

Flowery cotton sheets and
glasses on an antique nightstand.
Piles of thick comforters
and forgotten layers of blankets
kicked to the foot of the bed.
A watch is ticking somewhere.

Muggy thoughts start to swirl into dreams.
The hands of sleep are quiet-soft and winter-heavy
and press souls down into mattresses.

The heater hums its soothing tune
and it smells like toothpaste in the room.
The upstairs neighbors are still up
but the creaky floors wake no one.

Life ceases to be lively
for the hours of night
when the sky is sealed shut
to say, “That’s enough.”



There are too many blank pages
in the novel I have fallen into.
So I fill them
with smeared pen curls and
uncrossed Ts
and read on.

I’m a character
who craves the contact of
long unguarded
arms and hands
on my misguided frame.
It’s not pitiful.
But it is predetermined.

The last page is filled
with ellipses
and small print
that advises the reader
to finish more stories
or buy bigger erasers.


Sunny Disposition

We woke up appreciating what we had
for the first time in years.
The sun gave off a different kind of light.
It was somehow brighter and kinder than ever before.
Even the air around us was sweeter.

We lay there under the heavy covers,
side by side and bright eyed,
tingling with the day’s uncertainty.
We were invincible to negativity,
focused on the blue behind the clouds.

We realized no one said things had to be mundane
and called in sick to work.
We didn’t bother to pack
and boarded the first available flight
away from this place called home.

We spent the day with our bare feet
on a warm California beach
and felt genuine again.

We returned to ourselves that day
and went home that night
with freckled shoulders
and a new love for existence.


there’s more than potential here

Look at you,
held back
by the forever scars
and mistakes you won’t forget.
So worried.

Don’t try to protect me,
just come a little bit closer
so I don’t get so nervous.

I’m afraid you’ll run away
convincing yourself it’s best
for you and for me.

Love, we can make it.



Windmills purr slowly
and look lonely
despite the number of them.
Everything looks golden brown
and tired
under the remorseless sun.

The well-adapted stay motionless
in the inadequate shade
and the unknowing are conspicuous
with expensive water bottles
and heavy clothes.

No one really knows why they still live here.
Maybe they were born here,
and felt a need to return
as if they owed the land their lives.
Maybe they just want to protest
against nature’s No Trespassing signs,
the desert’s greatest joke.



Tonight is the last night
I’ll let you call me yours
and I don’t want that to sink in.
So let’s pretend this is
the last night we’ll ever live.

Shared laughter, photos, and kisses.
Grand adventures,
and walks with just the two of us
as “the two of us.”

We’ll go slowly,
and will not wonder why
we no longer fit together.


The Lasting Remarks

He said sleeping is forgetting
and I’ve forgotten too much.
She said stop being so dramatic
or I’ll tear you apart.
He said I’ll never forgive you
if you leave me alone.
She said we’ve always been alone
and there’s nothing we can do.
He said well let’s be alone together
for the rest of these miserable days.
She said I guess that sounds alright
as long as you give me what I need.