the words i'd use to describe
my teaching style
are the same ones you'd use
for a living room
     warm, soft
     inviting. comfortable
          familiar. and safe.

but she is a bathroom
     hard, stark, echo-y and taut
     tiles and corners and edges and cold water.
she'll knock your front teeth out with her vowels
so she is fit to run a team. and
i'm amber light and throw pillows and
red wine on tuesday nights in big glasses and
     laughing.

i'm too squishy
but the world needs more living rooms
i think.
and more hazelnut candles in h(e)aven

i like falling asleep
with our feet touching
because you're close enough
to me to remind me that
i'm real.

i fell hard for you a long time ago
but i didn't say anything
because we had an agreement.

i didn't realize i would like
being domestic
until i cleaned up the mud
you tracked in
across the white carpet
and we fell asleep
and woke up
together
in the same place
for a week.

It's around 2 a.m.
and you're driving,
stuffing french fries in your face--
          i'm holding your ketchup
          dipping packet thing,
          resting my hand
          on the gear shift.

we're singing to that ridiculous
fucking Royals song that's playing
right now, but

you always have to be right
and the loudest to sing.
          just wanna be heard, i guess.

the radio is playing but I'm getting out of range for the station so there's more static than sound instead of changing the station I turn up the volume like I'll somehow hear it better and long goodbye comes on -what kind of love keeps breaking apart- I'm not here im four months ago at 2 am monday morning online reading I can't do this -two lovers in love can't make it- I wanted to believe it wasn't us red wine on a tuesday night wednesday night thursday night to try and sleep -baby it's over let's face it- I can't bring myself to open the cinnamon rolls in the freezer maybe I did am hanging on too long but it might just be my thing I listened to static for 8 minutes just to be sure I heard it all

the sleet is clicking
against the window--
insistent fingernails gouging
though my hair (she knows
i like head scratches
but this wasn't what i had
          in mind)
my cat is yowling
outside the bedroom door
          --needy shit--

he sends me dirty texts, the blue
flashing light reminds me of
his eyes when he looks up at me
from between my legs

i fell asleep in my eyebrows
and next to my taxes.
i forgot to take my earrings out
          --they stab me in my sleep
if he were here, they'd cut him too
but he never stays long
enough to find out.

Let's make grilled cheese
at 3 am while we're bleary eyed and still
shaking. There will be a soft thud (and a pathetic mew)
from the living room when your cat walks into a chair
and we'll whine in unison for the poor thing and
implore the cat to tell us what's wrong and
why he did that when he knows he can't see--
          he won't answer, 'cause
          words just will not sometimes can't do

I'll lean against the counter,
shirt slipping off my shoulder, and
push the sandwiches around the pan, putting off
flipping them until the cheese is melty
--eyeliner stretched to the point of exhaustion
frames cracking eyes,
          haphazardly bleeding into shining flesh
          blooming viole(n)t purple bruises-- unfurling
          into jaundiced yellows and deoxygenated blues
          oozy life force, my insides making my outsides, exposed. and raw becoming
and the crust is crispy

You lean against the counter, watching--
smiles whisper across our faces,
spectres flirting with our lips,
playing transmutatory tag across our faces features red light? green light baby
come kiss me SILENCE is the thing but
you hug me from behind and kiss the side of my face.
Contentedness vibrates from that kiss, shaking
my heart into glittering shards---everything was rainbow rainbow rainbow----

cut through the sandwich
on the bias--
          since we are 'ed for each other anyway
          self professed, wouldn't (can't?) lie.
spread the two halves and catch the mess with your tongue.
or lick it off your fingers.

no sign of what we did
once it's over, except
dirty plates and a steely dan record
playing on repeat

when i was in college i wrote all the time and even the littlest moment or glance or potato chip or drink could make a poem gush from me but now the gushing is just words and it's usually i'm sorry and i can fix that but now when i try to write i don't get much what am i going to write about now would you start a poem like if you tug gently on the shade with two hands you'll hear a click you didn't break it you just reset your cordless mechanism or let's go ahead and uninstall the driver so we can update your soft-

ware shit that's a good start maybe we're getting somewhere