It takes four or five days
of constant kissing to know if she
will follow you through
dry canyons or flooded gardens
though if you venture to the post office
in a snowstorm, it may take longer
to allow the possibility
neither of you know what you’re doing
and it’s ok.

Yesterday’s just an excuse
to stare at swiveling caterpillars
and sip our juice with no pants

I miss the days of the sidecar
but we can’t stay wrapped up
in leather and wisteria

It’s a heavy tumult that greets middle age
but we can surreptitiously spit
whatever doesn’t fit our spoonful of sunset.

I don’t follow star charts
and I think
personality and IQ tests are horseshit.
I see what I want to see
and answer the most crooked ways I can
because I despise linear reasoning
though I like symmetry
and making lists I can cross off.

I’ve bent to others’ will often
because I feel so very small.

I like myths and imagining ancient things
and I think I belong somewhere
just not here most of the time.
Looking at stars is an ok way to pass time
and resting with you is fine.

I made a mistake,
parting my feathers too far:
he’s not a believer; he’d rather mope,
traversing abandoned passenger jets
scooping discarded bags of nuts
sipping spilled soda
instead of watching the skies.
My forecast is an ignored song blown out
the back end of a jet that will never fly.

Before every moon had a nickname,
there was an innocent chaos
that smelled of bananas and vanilla.
The trees danced
without worry of proper language.
Skies held mystery,
running was a joy,
potatoes were valued more than gems.
I was younger than I’ll ever be.