sidelong

and it was that protest on the lawn, radical cheerleaders and drums and dancing and running excitedly between people i knew till hand on my back he whispered in my ear, will you slow dance with me? and it was crawling out windows to rooftop gardens and lavender between my fingers. can i ask you dirty questions? knees touching around bike repairs.

and it was long lazy bike rides in the cool dusk breezes down narrow unlit streets with me swaying perched behind the seat flapping my arms like wings while we wobbled around turns. first kisses against newspaper machines outside shuttered restaurants and grabbing hands tight. he's not ready for this but he'd be a fool to let go of my hand right now.

what's yr favorite color, where's yr history, and tell me, what's yr sign? what a way to fall asleep and what a way to wake up. & mugs of tea too bitter and morning glories blooming purple and hummingbirds in the sunshine, and he asks, one day when yr done being wild and carefree will you come back to me?

(but i remind him that without both of our imminent looming departures none of this would taste as sweet)

and it was only one night, and i could have been anyone, don't you think?
but still yr stuck in my head.

chicago incarnations

these are signs that i'm ready for a break. flying home tomorrow morning (no liquids on the plane! take yr shoes off and sneak yr dirty hair thru security without arousing suspicion!) will be such a welcome escape for a week before i'm back in this city again.

i'm not sure i like this latest revision, all sneers and slipknots and sleepy condescension, and i'm not sure i'm really better off with these x-ray eyes and illiterate agenda and impatience like toenails. i kind of want to go back to bare feet and smoldering wicks and petals stuck in my hair and my teeth. i kind of want to be scared of anyone at all again, scared into pewter poses and bashful paper airplanes.

(the bookstore floor is a-calling, and you never really have to buy.)

momentum

and sometimes the inclinations leave me. sometimes
i can only work in the mornings
toward afternoon deadlines creeping closer
sidling up seeming so sneaky and slow but
ready to slam into me like that
almost-collision yesterday -

you know, two objects in motion going
faster faster faster intent on their destinations,
two objects on convergent paths
will necessarily collide with a great deal of force
leaving a mess of me and you and we
unless we swerve! just in time.

momentum, all about momentum, and
you know, if i never stop i never have to
start up again cuz i know an object at rest will
stay at rest but an object in motion will just
go go go, and i don't think i need to explain
the manifest metaphors here.