you are at the top of my lungs
i smoked on the roof of the front of the house like an indie movie. climbed through a window without a latch or lock--a movie scene backdrop, a dummy frame. lied on a bed with everyone there, the room strewn in a wonderful way, everything digging its heels into the floor, threading its fingers through the other's hair. we lay on the bed and talked about life and held hands in a way that i could tell i loved you far deeper than love could ever call itself. a total connection, a yarn web spinning around our hearts and hands and telling us we'd never forget this moment. the communication all stuck in your head and wanting to push it out, through your mouth and you hoped the elixir from the silver spring will loosen your ties and let all those thoughts come through your throat. i wanted to hold you close out of closeness and exclude love from the list of things i never thought i'd experience. maybe thats the way it is, loving you there and not wanting to kiss you because i love you so. maybe it took me all those angered letters and tears of something else to get there.
i had my first 4 kisses from jewish boys, guiding me into the desert and leading me for forty years, we built altars from golden years, climbed mountains of self assurance concealing confusioned faith, we sang praises to something we never thought we'd understand, a great mystery floating somewhere above, touching our stone tablets and turning us into humans again. i lost my virginity to a boy named noah. i wonder if i've begun to load the boat and seal the door or if we've rolled around the waters for 40 days and now we're feeling quiet and calm. i wonder where i am, herding a cattle or nestling the wings of a dove.
now i'm aching for things like holding hands and pushing hair behind ears. i wish for things like spending time together at a table and looking fondly across, over books and scribbled notes and thinking that maybe i might be feeling something else other than what i've thought before. "there is not enough room for the love in the world which i will live in" i want to take the numbers in your head and turn them into dancing figures on the table, bend their curved legs into hooks and string them together to drape around your shoulders. you say you hear the same things over and over again but every repeated syllable contains even more love than the last. i peel back and expose more layers with each sound echoing off the walls of your mouth. your red eye day dreams and corduroy containers, brown penny loafers and copper toned bangles. i love that which is being in love with your presence, that which is breeching across weeds and bridging over tangles of color in a flat land. in love in which this is me closing my eyes and letting myself get drunk from the liquor sweet dream of your smile, imagining your skin softer on the insides. my mind that has been expanded, has unfolded meticulously around the things i see and soaked in their meetings until laden and dripping with thick significance, my mind has swept over the floor and begun to claw at the windowsills, reached its hands foreward and outward and hast a hold of all things.
we drown in a sea of clothes, rock the boxspring boat like our last night asail. we haveth only til dawn to call this over, untangle ourselves from the other's mast and set ashore the other half of this dual mission.
i had my first 4 kisses from jewish boys, guiding me into the desert and leading me for forty years, we built altars from golden years, climbed mountains of self assurance concealing confusioned faith, we sang praises to something we never thought we'd understand, a great mystery floating somewhere above, touching our stone tablets and turning us into humans again. i lost my virginity to a boy named noah. i wonder if i've begun to load the boat and seal the door or if we've rolled around the waters for 40 days and now we're feeling quiet and calm. i wonder where i am, herding a cattle or nestling the wings of a dove.
now i'm aching for things like holding hands and pushing hair behind ears. i wish for things like spending time together at a table and looking fondly across, over books and scribbled notes and thinking that maybe i might be feeling something else other than what i've thought before. "there is not enough room for the love in the world which i will live in" i want to take the numbers in your head and turn them into dancing figures on the table, bend their curved legs into hooks and string them together to drape around your shoulders. you say you hear the same things over and over again but every repeated syllable contains even more love than the last. i peel back and expose more layers with each sound echoing off the walls of your mouth. your red eye day dreams and corduroy containers, brown penny loafers and copper toned bangles. i love that which is being in love with your presence, that which is breeching across weeds and bridging over tangles of color in a flat land. in love in which this is me closing my eyes and letting myself get drunk from the liquor sweet dream of your smile, imagining your skin softer on the insides. my mind that has been expanded, has unfolded meticulously around the things i see and soaked in their meetings until laden and dripping with thick significance, my mind has swept over the floor and begun to claw at the windowsills, reached its hands foreward and outward and hast a hold of all things.
we drown in a sea of clothes, rock the boxspring boat like our last night asail. we haveth only til dawn to call this over, untangle ourselves from the other's mast and set ashore the other half of this dual mission.