LOVE

For some, love unfolds like a silk blanket 

over freshly mown grass 

on a balmy June day.
For some, love rolls out like a red carpet 

to blaring trumpet music 

and flying rose petals.
For some, love is built plank by plank, 

bravely joining two lands 

and making them one.
For some, love is like a 5th grader’s secret note 

having been forgotten in the pocket of her jeans

washed and tumble dried 

into a thickly layered chunk.
When unfolded, only deteriorating, indecipherable, 

light blue BIC pen hatching or question marks remain.
Dust and bits, 

dust and bits. 

Lint and confusion 

covered in 

melted strawberry 

chapstick wax.

It started with your hand on my cheek

It started with your hand on my cheek

It was warm

And it sung

It ended with your hand on my cheek

It was hot

And it stung

And in between 

An army of scarlet banners waving

In the spotlight, Gaslight, 

Your best friend described the love of your life 

who was not me 

but looked like me

apparently

The one you told me 

liked it when you hit her 

She asked for you to hit her. 

And I felt sad for her 

For you, for the things you said she made you do

So when you reached back way back reached back to your childhood back back back 

to the first naked humiliation 

reached back further yet to your father's and his father's pain 

and wrapped your fist around it and made it fly across my skull

I knew. 

I knew

You were back back back 

with the love of your life 

And practicing that ritual that was at your disposal

With her

And trying to practice it on me at the same time.