Sunday, September 21, 2014

A Close Reading

A Close Reading

Our love story was buried in someone else’s
Of men on cold winter nights
Of poems published and words that stayed in their boxes
A series of unintentions
My art hovered in the air like sadness
Begging for the end of July
And instead, the beginning of you

I saw you,
In people, in words, in foreign bedrooms
In the fear, in the excitement, the thrill of it all
In the secret and in the story
In the extended film scene that was ours
Because it explained us better than we could explain ourselves

I travel backwards in time with you
To last week, last month, last lifecycle
I rewind 23 years through ripped t-shirts and old photographs
Of 80s haircuts, 90s music, and girlfriends past
And suddenly I become something I have never even seen or heard of
Experience beyond body, being beyond self

When you follow me out at the end of the night
And wonder if I will return home with you
I think of the cobblestoned streets tucked away in old Philadelphia
How I got here
How your hands feel on the layers of my skin
How long it will be before you hold me again
And whether the streetlamps will stay awake long enough
To witness us in the morning

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