Work in Progress

The pale light of dawn
creeps through the blinds,
illuminating the stale loneliness
that has pervaded the corners,
where spiders live like kings.

I close my eyes and I see
the morning sun drip slowly
across our skin; a gentle
misting of sunlight;
a natural baptism,
a cleansing warmth
that permeates our bodies,
seeping into our bones and
our blood, filling every inch
of our being with joy until
it spills out of us with earnest-
spilling through our fingertips
as they linger, through our lips
as they embrace, through our bodies
as we love.

I open my eyes,
and I am alone-
but the sun is shining.

Tijuana

Sirens wail
     while children follow at our feet
          asking for money
               like dogs begging for scraps.
There is a chill
     in the January air, but
          "dos mas tequilas, por favor?"
               and we are cold no more.
Our bodies move
     in sultry rhythm
          like two snakes rising
               from a charmers pot.
I kiss her ears, lips, and neck, and
     we dance until the sun comes up.
          The perfect stranger: not to be
               seen again, but remembered forever.

Untitled

Suitcase in hand
at the door, I stand.
Reflected in glass,
my regrets of the past.

Teary eyed, I say goodbye,
he grabs a plate and lets it fly-
over my head, it hits the door.
Jagged pieces shower the floor.

Eyes glaring he stares,
spewing callous swears.
He bids me "turn around-
do it quickly, make no sound."

Steeling myself, I cast my fears
out the door, and wipe my tears.

The night is young (but so am I),
my life ahead, I need not cry.

Morning

Lips moist from the drool
that spread to her pillow
as she dreamt.
Eyes gleam
with a natural sunlight
that permeates the room
with shades still drawn.
Lips crinkle at the edges
as she smiles, embracing
each morning with a
courageous naivety.
Outside the window the snow falls
heavily; we must not leave.

The Way We Were

Our kingdom is between the sheets, 

immune to the arrows flung by 

infidelity and overdue rent.

Under the covers we are lovers, 

confined by our passion 

to extreme pleasure or depression.

Our lies will unravel soon, 

stretched thin as we stray further

each afternoon, only coming home to

dream about what could have been.

Meeting You

For years I've had no problem,
talking to them fine.
Take them out to dinner,
drink a glass of wine.

Then she came along,
not indulging in my vice.
She took me to her room,
and gave me some advice.

Go after what you want-
be confident, she said.
Easy enough I thought,
if there's bourbon being bled.

I loved to come to class,
seeing us undressing,
taking her to bed,
kissing and caressing.

I asked her out to dinner,
she agreed and I said great!
but I fucked up and got nervous-
never took her on that date.

She intimidated me,
with her smile and her joy.
I couldn't believe this young woman
made me feel just like a boy.

And while I didn't accomplish
what I'd set out to do,
I learned a lot about myself,
and I owe it all to you.

Double Dutch

Her energy is intoxicating:
more inebriating
than a scotch her age;
she sobers me.
I see her face in the setting sun;
the stars dance through the night
repeating her song.
She turns my courage
liquid-
I long to explore her,
yet my hands are stone.