Thursday, June 24, 2010

I. Want. This. Place.

I could live in small spaces

if the wine was fruity

and plentiful

and I had a window facing west.

All of the left over money would

go to organic food shopping once

a week, and the amount of gas

money it takes to go camping

every weekend.

I. Want. This. Place.

Our roommates are only your

extensive collection of

one-on-one entertainment

things you do when I am

busy being myself.

The worlds you get lost in,

that may, or may not include me.

I am desperately heartbroken

that you've never seen

so many fireflies.

That you are anxious

to get home before dark.

want. to. Stay.

You stare at a statue.

You look at me.

You say out loud to no one

“If someone made a statue

of that face people would

come for miles”

You have bedroom eyes.

You're mellow.

No affectations.

No “movie-talk”

You're yourself.

I kiss you.

I wish you would freeze solid like a statue.

I. want. You. to. Stay.

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Reach for the clouds. . .

Tickle your toes. . .

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