YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO IT ALL ALONE

when i was four years old i would plead for my grandmother to give me pickle juice in a cup because i liked the way it tasted. we would play chinese checkers in the darkness of the living room and she'd tell me how grandpa had made the board. grandfather clocks and cuckoo clocks interrupted us and marbles spilled. she'd dismally listen to the radio when she was alone and i know she did it just to hear a voice. i was terrified of the convex glass portraits of her parents hanging on the wall but i never told her that. we would share a bed on the weeknights when i'd sleep there. she'd take her teeth out at night and they'd clink to the bottom of a glass in the bathroom. i wondered why her teeth were floating and why she didn't own a hairbrush - didn't she brush her hair and how did she brush her teeth?

BUT NEVER ONCE INTO IT

it's not what exists in me, or what exists in you, but about what exists between us
it's about emptying a wine bottle in one sitting
it's what exists on the underside of umbrellas during a rainstorm,
inside half-filled, mostly scribbled diaries, behind closed doors of bathrooms, fucking
it's about being dry on a day when you need it the most,
where your mind wanders when you wonder who in this world has read the literature that has built your life
finally learning to love, and to share that feeling, and to share your art, and to share your mind's creations,
i regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.
like the ending of missing someone, like the ending of missing a fleeting feeling, and to have found it again

taking everything i've ever done, everyone i've ever met, every word i've ever heard, every feeling i've ever shared, and leaving it all here

i missed you even when i was around you, i surround myself with things that are already missing

and i hated myself for going. why couldn't i have been the kind of person who stays?

i'm so afraid of losing something i love that i refuse to love anything.

I SAW YOU IN THE LIBRARY EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE TWO STATES AWAY

it's not about finding my place in the world, it's about finding myself in each place and building something bigger. what do i expect?  i expect solemness, loneliness, challenge, fear, grasping new mental states, culture shock round eight, vast amounts of time set aside to think, read, and write. consider new ideas, wonder about life away, wondering about life here. second guess eleven months away. expand expand expand expand expand and dobrý den. stýská se mi domů, nemluvím dobře, chci se vyjádřit sám sebe tak špatně. i miss my home, i don't speak well, i want to express myself so badly.

we're existing with co-morbid conditions (love ballads in the shower). the small details of new coffee dates with squinting eyes, light rain, light wind. found my favorite part of the human body, finally joked in the ways i know how (and they were understood!)

 the desolateness can be discouraging. claustrophobia caused by emptiness. i have no real sense of direction. nothing keeping me here nor pulling me there. it feels so good. in one year, in six months,  in one year and six months, i have no idea. to that, i say, thank god i have so much time to think alone and be alone. you can go back to the place, but not the time. i've tried.

ASPENS IN ASPEN IN AUGUST

the old, crumbling house
my parent's yellow 70's style - wood paneled walls, sparkled ceilings, hideous tiling and brown carpet
the third floor of fitzgerald
big summer house with amanda and a bed on the floor
the second floor of building c in björnkulla
one year and a half on the top floor of pine st. opera house lofts
alberto and martin's room - björnkulla
amaya's vacated bedroom
a flat in moncloa
warrensburg subdivision apt a
?????????

SONGS ARE AS SAD AS THE LISTENER

grew into my surroundings
the way that language organizes reality
i have a number of loose ends
if i could wrap up your voice in a pretty package with a pretty bow on top and give it back to you i would.
time present and time past are both contained in time future.

CHESS MONDAY

we nicknamed her from the start
did we ever see her face?
we hid everything,
the hamster in the bathtub,
cleaning products under the sink,
worried about her for months, linda
we smelled the vomit from her bedroom

we watched the body bag behind fitzgerald,
pulled out of an ambulance at four in the morning,
"i can't believe it" watching from our beds what we thought we'd witnessed
"someone's dead"
"they're dead"
"no"

the dreaded, unwanted phone calls midsleep
your drunken boyfriend drove home again
forgot to call, forgot to care for you
i asked you to stop. stop?
i cant get to sleep,
i cant even hope to wake up in the morning
and i cant get to sleep right now
tell him to fuck off

i drove my car as far as i could
as far away as i could
i thought about driving it into the lake
and no one would ever know
and i wouldnt try to get out the window
id just fuck off forever
do you like your park with culp or no culp?
sunken?

spent a year forcing myself to eat
spent a year sleepless
i swear to god i wished someone would hurt me
explosions in the sky meant everything

id scream and scream, id avoid the street, id avoid my bed, id avoid my head
crossing that bridge in january wasnt in my mind all over again
no drug, nothing has ever fucked me up like that
im my worst here, ive always been my worst here
counting my goodbyes on the same two hands i loved you with