Safety pins synch up tears in
your jeans like stitches, shielding
thin calves from winter air. Spattered
spills of coffee, earth, and oil splash
across the fabrics front. Your blue eyes
slid away when you speak,
the natural man is good. You say.
I can crowd your possessions into
one solid box. You, a fleck of oneness
in a suspended universe fogged deep
with overstuffed objects that only dim
Coupled with want is loneliness.
You do not want much, but do you want
me? Your breath on my neck, a bite of
my bottom lip, a suck of my mouth, a bare
night on your roommate’s pliable futon. If
I wasn’t fixed on being untraceable I might
have craved the feral words that you spewed
or the taste of your tongue after you took a
hit and slipped a sip. I am rotting from my
stumbles between friendship and lovers.
But I still covet your skin best from a distance.
Intrinsically I stroke your hair, your hands swim
down my body like a retraced path. And for the
moment we are simple. A boy and a girl linked
in rooted breaths.