Chicken Skin

You’re a lifetime ago

Back when I was a different person.

I needed to shed you like an identity,

Like shedding a skin

Creased on the ground behind me

Grateful that it kept me together

Until it couldn’t, any longer.

I kept trying to put that skin back on

But it no longer fits

Not because it grew too tight

But because it grew too loose

It won’t stay up any longer

And inside, I feel unprotected.

The only option left

Is to choose myself, and this new skin,

Skin I’m still getting to know

Like the back of my hand.

Speaking of the back of my hand:

I got a burn cooking chicken the other night.

You used to do that for us.

Anyway, it left a mark.

My hand looks different than before,

My pointer finger has a purple line.

Now, when I meet people

When I shake hands with them for the first time,

They will meet a new woman--

The woman with new skin

The woman with a chicken scar.

Dash it all

I miss you and I'll never be able to tell you.
Not if I keep the promise to myself 
To not go crawling back,
Only to hear what I heard before - 
No.
You told me no. And again.
How many times do I need to hear it to understand?
Three times?
Until you don't like me anymore?
Until I don't like me anymore?
No, the only way to go this time is to go in grace,
To accept the no.
And I guess to wonder - 
At first every moment, but less and less in time -
How you are

Go with it

Did you give me two poems?

Did you come at me

With teeth like spears

Flashing in a smile,

Deadly when I imagine them

In the dark?

I just want to find someone

Who loves to play!

I’m afraid you’ll get tired,

Like I did, before you reminded me

That nothing is more exciting

Than a box of costumes 

And an imagination.

Catch me

I don’t know if I’m ready to get into dating

Because I’m afraid of the feeling

Of falling in love.

Which doesn’t mean you’re perfect --

There’s so much space

Between love and perfection, 

Between who I thought I wanted

And who you turned out to be.

The pieces of you that fit with me,

The pieces of you I said wouldn’t fit,

Yet made me laugh, and laugh,

The pieces of you that definitely did not fit,

But invited me to reimagine you.

I have enough space for your shape 

If I get to know your heart.

You outshine

Who I thought you’d be

And you’re handsome.

But I don’t know if I’m ready to get into dating

Because I’m afraid of the feeling

Of falling in love.

Relationships in the Time of Corona

These times remind me of the concept of Yin and Yang, or as Wikipedia puts it, "a concept of dualism, describing how seemingly opposite or contrary forces may actually be complementary, interconnected, and interdependent in the natural world, and how they may give rise to each other as they interrelate to one another." Right now, people are being asked, en masse, to draw together for a common purpose of collective isolation, or to join forces to force themselves away from one another. Taking some time apart will help us overcome, together.

I find myself wanting to dive deeply into this contradiction, to isolate fully--as a means of protecting my friends and family--while using this moment as an excuse to connect with people at a level usually reserved for "time." 

Many deep long-term relationships -- romantic, platonic, it doesn't matter -- are intentionally built through time. Stories of our pasts are meted out judiciously, like a ration of toilet paper and hand sanitizer. Someone calculates the optimal profit/restriction ratio, sets an internal policy, and whispers, "I think you've had enough, for now. We can come back to this tomorrow."

But when the horizon of time becomes uncertain, when we are told, "You may lose your life or contribute to the loss of life of someone you love," what happens to this concept of time and connection? All that I can share with you exists in the power of my now. Text me, now. Open up to me, now. Love me, now. There might not be tomorrow. Nothing is certain. As far as I take myself away from you, I need to get correspondingly closer. 

In that spirit, there are a lot of people I love more intensely, right now. Maybe I should tell more of them.

Study Fail

You make me want to write bad poetry.

Names looping like drones--

Thoughts like, "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah," 

Or, "Let's dance, baby," 

Distract me from textbook logic games.

I'm more compelled by your smell than philosophy,

Your jokes than politics,

Your kindness than law.

When can I get you back in my bed?

Tomorrow night is too far for my fingers,

Too near for sighs,

Too long for focus,

Too short for anything other than

Scribbles on a legal pad.

The Rodent Part I

Last night, I turned into a rodent.  One moment, I was closing my eyes in anticipation of slumber, and the next, I felt the keenest alertness, with all sensations brought from background noise into foreground awareness.  I felt the motion of the air, heard midnight insects as if they were playing their winged chorus in front of me, and smelled the strong odors of breadcrumbs and my own chemical adrenaline.  Even in the dim light, I saw dull pink little toes and, to the right and left of my long grey nose, even longer whiskers. 

One might think that I would have spent a good deal of time bothering about such a transformation—like how on earth this came to pass, or what my boss would say if I were late for work, or what my family might think of me—but you would be wrong.  Those were the furthest concerns from my mind. 

A new state took over, a state of proud and furious curiosity, countered by a mortal fear. Instantly I knew that the world in front of me, the world I thought I had known, was now exponentially more vast, full of nooks and crannies and friend and foe which, either now or later, I was destined to meet.  Some sweet hand freed me from my previous life of social convention and transformed it, with all its blasted expectations, into a grand adventure. So I was off.

I scurried down the side of the bed, onto the carpet which tickled the bottom of my feet, and alongside the wall.  There, where the baseboard met the door, I knew I would find it waiting.  And I did.  A hole, which I had seen dozens if not hundreds of times before, but never bothered to inspect.  It was just my size, beckoning me into the depths of the walls within.