in the park, there's a metal train. sort of a jungle gym type thing. you climb on it. i was laying on the top. laying on the black metal bars, the paint chipping off. staring at the trees. this evening, the sun was reflecting off of the leaves and the breeze was blowing and i just layed there and took it all in. when i sat up, i watched him drawing with sidewalk chalk. he was into it, his hair hanging over his face, his left hand moving across the pavement. so i'm watching him. realizing, understanding that this 21-year old boy is the reason that i'm sitting on top of this fucking fake train smiling like an idiot.

he is the reason that i can't sleep at night. the invader of my dreams. the reason i get up in the morning as opposed to sleeping through it as usual. he's the reason i get lost while driving in a place i've lived for over twenty years. he's the reason the reason the reason..

i have so much to say
about him that nothing
on this earth could
contain it

tree after tree after tree
could be pulped
to provide me with the
paper to write the words

pen after pen after pencil
after paint after dye after blood
could be had
as a means of writing

words could be invented so i wouldn't run out but there would never be enough

this is frightning to me.

i feel god when our mouths touch
when you touch me
i touch
we touch

am i getting though?

[am i?]

[am i?]

getting through

as i drove him home ,
as the sun was setting ,
as he was holding my hand ,
i pushed my foot down on the accelerator
hoping that if i pushed hard enough
went fast enough
maybe i could beat something
and we'd speed off into what? the sunset?

and spend hours together

laughing at the world

& i'm beginning not to care so much
that i gave my heart to the dread-locked boy.

because.

when he looks at me that way.

i know.

it's right.

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