Oranges As Sappho Intended -- 25 September 2019

Between breaking the skin and
Peeling back the rind
We re-enact a new original sin
Flesh on my lips
Fingers soft and sticky
My skin hungers for yours
Will anything be as intimate
As your lips kissing my fingertips
While I feed you an orange?

He's Cracker Jacks and Baseball Games on the Radio

He’s cracker jacks and baseball games on the radio. He’s so tone-deaf; he causes confusion when he tries to sing a popular tune. He’s junky old cars whose problems don’t seem to matter as long as they run. He’s watching Disney movies with his daughters and imperfect ponytails after trying so hard. He’s sweaty running shoes and all the clutter around your house and buying packs of gum on sale. He eats all the cookies in the cookie jar and then claims to have only eaten “a couple”. He’s the smell of newsprint and old maps and new maps. He’s the overwhelming need to make sure those he loves will be provided for. He’s the plan for the future and horrible planning skills. He’s outrageous drunken stories from his youth and breaking into zoos. He’s stock markets and the need to always do something. He’s long car rides and only listening to talk radio.

He’s most of the things that embarrass you.

He tries so hard not to be.

She's 5 O'clock Somewhere and White Wine and Mojitos

She’s 5 o’clock somewhere and white wine and mojitos. She’s the jokey songs you hear at weddings and the cheesy dance moves that go along with them. She’s naps and guacamole and the sand between your toes. She’s arguments so convoluted you don’t even know what you’re arguing about. She’s always right, even when she’s not. She’s the smell of paint and saved clippings from home decorating magazines. She’s the feeling you get when you come home and suddenly everything is rearranged and artsy projects that take forever. She’s homemade salsa and cooking for an army so you always have leftovers. She’s her tears after spanking a child, once. She’s warm blankets and wearing long-johns from September to May. She’s never letting embarrassing stories die.

She’s a force to be reckoned with.

She's never going to change.

She's Coffee Ice Cream and Foreign Money She'll Never Spend

She's coffee ice cream and foreign money she'll never spend. She is the smile on her face when she's around people with obnoxious laughs. She's sad musicals and books where everyone you love dies. She's chocolate bars and the feeling you get when someone give you a drawing they made just for you. She's her love of freckles and nice jaw lines and peeling skin off when you pop a blister. She's the radio at two in the morning, because that's when they play the stuff from the early 2000s and you not-so-secretly know every word. She's new school supplies and making schedules you know you'll never follow. She's abandoned houses and floral patterns and clothes in antique stores your mom always drags you to. She's puns and accidental rhymes and reading people's tags on tumblr because that where they're the most honest. She's bad shark movies that no matter how much you want to watch, you never will.

She's all the little things that drive her sister crazy.

She enjoys every minute of it. 

She's Bad Puns and Cooking Experiments With Tofu

She's bad puns and cooking experiments with tofu. She's literary analysis and red correcting pens and the long dramatic setting descriptions in novels. She genuinely laughs at cheesy pick-up lines. She's the sound of cracking ice in lukewarm water and ghetto rap. She’s the overpowering smell of gasoline. She is polyester and that awful 70s avocado green color. She’s peanut butter, salami and pickle sandwiches, and you never figured out how that combination came to be but it works for her. She’s bad dancing and too-loud laughter and deep sea aquariums. She loves like dog nose prints on car windows - chaotic, all over the place and the only thing you can see. She is flowering cacti and rainbows and daisies and the Bowie knife she keeps in her car. And someday, she'll find someone to eat pancakes and meatballs for breakfast with her.

She is the most complex puzzle you've ever met.

She makes you want to spend all your time figuring her out. 

She Loves Him Like Sour Gummy Worms and Those Maneki-Neko Japanese Waving Cats

She loves him like sour gummy worms and those maneki-neko Japanese waving cats that stand guard in almost every Chinese restaurant. She loves him like warm scarves in the winter time and the freckles on their dog. Her love is flavored water and the crack in the spine of a new book. She’s baby socks and finding movie ticket stubs in your pocket months later. She loves him like the three musketeers love France. She’s her love of the color yellow and Batman and ninjas and useless trinkets bought for less than a dollar. She loves him like scented markers and magnetic note pads and organizational tools, not because she actually uses these things but because she loves the illusion of productivity. She’s beaches and mini sweet tarts and bookshelves. To her, he’s like cute baby animals and the noodle-shaped floaties and the intricate details of a Hayao Miyazaki movie.

She loves him with all the idiosyncrasies of herself.

She loves him with everything she is.

You Can't Name All The Ways In Which You Love Her

You can’t name all the ways in which you love her:

You love her slow when she just rolls out of bed

You love her fast just like her road rage on the interstate

You love her red like her face when she yells all angry

You love her blue when she’s snotty and crying into the covers of your bed

You love her cold because it means her God awful sweaters

You love her hot like the tea she drinks every morning

You love her silly in every picture she takes

You love her serious, bent over textbooks and full of concentration

You love her faraway, lost somewhere in her head

You love her close because it means she’s yours
You just love her all the time.

Sugar-Coated Love - 8 May 2013

She loves you like syrup;

Sticky, sweet and a bit clingy.

You find traces of her on your hands

And at the corners of your mouth

And you never expect her to stay.

But she does.

You love her like slow summer mornings;

Breakfast in bed and pancakes before noon.

She finds traces of you in the lumpy batter

And in the pools of syrup you can’t stand.

And you never expected to love her.

But you do.

He's Peppermint Tea You Steeped for Too Long and Rips in Your Favorite Jeans

He’s peppermint tea you steeped for too long and rips in your favorite jeans. He’s the butterscotch candy that just appears in the purses of little old ladies. He’s drive-thru diners and licking greasy fingers. He’s a melody stuck in your head but you never know the words. He’s the word on the tip of your tongue and the things you say without thinking. He’s anxiety and caution and angst. He’s the slightly pulpy last sip of lemonade when it’s a scorching hundred degrees. He’s the pennies in your pockets in exchange for a thought and the sprint to beat the parking meter. He’s cold coffee and sleepy conversations and the umbrella that breaks in the rain. He’s puddles and wet socks and the thump of your tennis shoes in the dryer. He’s leftover Easter candy, chalky and stale, and the stomachache you can’t seem to regret.  

He’s too much and never enough.

He’s killing you softly and you don’t even care. 

She's Curse Words and Eating Peanut Butter Straight from the Jar

She’s curse words and eating peanut butter straight from the jar. She’s rolling the windows down on a hot summer day. She’s the dirt underneath your fingernails and the sand castle you never finish. She’s everything you can’t say and the things you can’t admit. She’s the poetry you want to write and the stacks of unread books beside your bed. She’s sarcasm and the laugh you can’t hold back. She’s the snorts and the giggles and the cackles and the shakes. She’s burnt marshmallows and campfires and menthols. She’s the thunder when it rains and the earthworms coming out to play. She’s the cold feet in your bed and the pop-rocks feeling when she touches you. She’s the dragons in your breath on cold days and crackling ice.

She is everything you love.

She burns you alive and you don’t want her to stop.