LIX.

seams.
it took an ocean, love
and now these rifts in us
yawning canyon walls
slow-motion avalanches

stitches tearing
like my hair that reaches long

a vacuumed apartment
that feels too close to be home
floorboards fall and ceilings cave

i tried with my colors
but a canvas can't hold the dusty tones
where i slept under thatched calm
as streetlamps synthesized the dawn
and there's that rough warmth in your face, you know —

like my hair that reaches long.

i am reaching, but not for long —
it's your brooklyn way, nothing but today
nothing but to dance and say
sure, we'll sell your car

through the sunroof.
through the sunroof to marching memories.
these thoughts wild like the sand clothes i'm saving
for a day when the skies will match
the wind will catch and i'll breathe you in
a breath to fill and then to spill
for to hold is to lose life
like my hair that reaches long.

"have you ever just looked in the mirror and thought,
"i am myself?"
she smiles on the porch swing.
"just about every day," i say.

but could i sleep on the blacktop?
could i see the oil rigs at night
and wake with sand in my hair?
could it be me to follow you with a metro pass
and put dogwood blooms in my hair?

you were supposed to sleep an hour ago.
please no night terrors, love —

as our dreams are so related
but so often underestimated.