Tuesday, January 18, 2011

you sneak away to dark corners
mouths spill over with words
tongues dive and bomb into other tongues
hands grab hands
they creep in and under clothes looking for
warmth, wetness
the kisses are slow, lips pound-
you want to skip down the street, yell at the top of your lungs,
"FINALLY!"
have one of those stupid scenes from the movies where the song
comes on out of nowhere with horns and whistles and
people give you high fives, but you just put your face down and smile
a sly smile because thats all you know how to do in situations like
these, where he knows and you know and things are okay.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

dirty hands

i mistake my fast beating pulse for his
my palms sweat and i wipe them on my jeans
i haven't worn jeans in years
i try to convince him, high, that that sound
is his heart beating
but it's mine.
this will probably be the
last poem i write about you.