i get jealous
of people
who seem to have their lives
together.

but then i remember
there are different types
of accomplishment.

I Might Have Heard a Moa

a moa is a flightless bird,
very breast (so then feelings
and heart) heavy.
interesting, that.

documentation of extinction-
level events is strange
because it just smiles, nods,
and gives passing glances at the life
and times of a thing and maybe,
if you're lucky,
an insight into why it died:

i feel sorry about a lot of things
like that time i almost killed you
when i was driving too fast and
the road was wet and
we hit a puddle
barely skidding to a stop.

i didn't throw out my arm to stop you from flying forward.
i guess i didn't care as much as i thought
          or maybe i trust the engineering of the car to keep you alive
          instead of my flimsy arm.

i feel sorry about the fact that this
is a really self centered poem:
almost every sentence starts with I.

but tonight,
jaundiced veins track
double lines on the pavement;
fog oozing from the edges
of the night, clouding the world
with the thunder in my eyes.

the glossy shhhhhhhhhhhhh
of tires on pavement
turns my brain to
static,
and in the ringing of my ears
i might have heard a moa.

i love
the goosebumps you get
when we lay together
and my fingertips follow
the rivulets of sweat
on your skin.

i think to myself
that it spells love
in braille.

i had the biggest crush on my poetry professor in college. i always tried to impress him but it never went the way i planned.

some of the best moments in class were when he looked me dead in the eyes and my heart stopped. he didn't give a lot of compliments, but he honestly could have told me my work was complete shit and i still would have loved him.

he nominated me for a poetry prize and i about died. i didn't win, but i entered proudly.

i wish i knew how to talk to him

like somehow if i could have told him how much i (did and still do) admire him then i might have

closure, but

memorizing the lyrics
to that song
          (i don't get pangs anymore--
i sing along. i know every word.
          you promised me we'd fuck with
that song on repeat)
wasn't as easy as
memorizing your body

my tongue folded
over your cock
but i guess
you fucked the words
way back into my throat,
stuck them there with
jets of semen(t).
at that point i was never easy
to understand... always
forgetting words, and then
clogged vocal chords.

when my dad
mentioned golf,
all i could think about
was when you and i played
nintendo golf, stoned.

he said something about
reading the green
and i pictured
the neon lines
and arrows
of the video game,
telling me how and where
to shoot.

i wish that
i could play life
like you played me
like the video games
when we were stoned
and didn't see the world
as it was,
but as the best version
of itself.

i can hear you
snoring in the next room
and i feel
guilty
for fucking you.

i will probably
fall asleep
on this couch
          's arm(rest?)
and not you(rs).

i will never
taste dreams
on your tongue
upon first waking.