east coast

if you tell me where we're going then i'll tell you where i went after the marathon.

you won't like it. i did.

you sent me like an orphan to the countryside in wartime, you wouldn't look me in the eye so i did, in the mirror: teeth bared, never flossing.

maybe you were right, for all the fuss. i was a child.

//

things i'm ugly about: this.

slipquick yeses overrode the bowl, they brimmed the edges, i stayed the course. i lost my grip in the mess on the tile.

one more glass, one more night, one more if, until i crawled up the bedskirts (not yours, i tried) and nothing got good.

by the time the race was over my train was pulling from back bay. i pulled my hair from the shower drain that night and gagged -- but that was after.

//

no more mr. nice guy. no more rings in times square and that's ok.

the frosting tasted like crisco. the fries were soggy. it was dirty in the corners.

it's gotten worse -- commute crush weed whiff elmo elbows -- or maybe i have gotten better. a woman now, though you never planned to meet her.

at least the lights were bright. at least i had you in new haven.

//

and floating in the met before the nameless whore, and through the streets of providence, wasn't it grand?

watching one another in the café mirror. finding myself in your margin notes. convenient blurs on names and dates and -- but that came later.

treasure the moment before the egg falls. ponder the yolk's spill.

that's what i did on the amtrak south. i forgot the alchemy of human connection, lingered just a second longer on the cymbal splash of chemistry.

//

i wonder if she smelled me on her couch, or felt my eyes on her countertop mailpile. i wonder if the dog i met was really yours.

you poured me wine and begged me not to write you in. i promised, (forgive me,) i lied. i found the café mirror again and still your shadow's there.

there is so much pain in the world and tonight it's all here in this room.

come taste it with me.