The threads of your pants frayed, dragging little pieces
Of string. All the way home,
My head hung down,
Like the button on a thread.
Open House
When Mom said, “Come with me,”
I sighed and thought, Not again.
On Sunday afternoons
Mom likes to see how others live,
Their furniture and kitchens,
And, I, a good son, get into the car.
I'm glad I did—
A girl with her mother
Walked down the steps
As we climbed up.
We passed,
And I could see her
See me. There were roses
In the flower bed,
Stocks and freesia.
But she was a different kind of flower,
With pink buds beneath her blouse.
Vegan for Your Love
No chicken or chops,
No burgers or chow mein with pork,
No milk shakes thick as wet cement,
No buttered bread or my favorite beef jerky.
“I'm hardly hungry at all,” I say,
And smooth the blanket where we lay in nature,
Ants with their antennae up and feeling
For handouts. I've lost four pounds
In two weeks, and by the end of the month,
I'm going to be like that red ant—
Waist so thin, I'm a vegan begging
For sprouts and, oh please, a single blade of grass.
A Long Weekend Without You
The wind blows west,
Hauling clouds in the spring weather.
I lie on a recliner in the yard
And wait for your face to take shape
Among those clouds. There, now I see you:
Nose and forehead,
The chin I once touched
And made myself shiver.
Love is like weather, cold or hot,
Nothing between. I watch
The clouds, the shadows like
A warning. I touch my face.
Is it rain from you, or a tear
From inside me?
So Much Alike
If only we hadn't moved away,
I would still know you,
Girl in the third row,
Your blouse buttoned all the way up.
I liked you. Didn't you know?
Because of you I wore a shirt with buttons,
Polished my shoes, and combed my hair,
Even went to church because I heard you did.
I almost cried
On that field trip to the aquarium
When I saw two penguins
With their little wings touching.
They had each other
And now I have no one, just arms at my sides,
Now and then flapping,
Now what, now what?
Fall Dance
When I promised to take you
To the fall dance,
You rose on tiptoes
To kiss me on the chin.
You cooed, “We'll waltz.”
I smiled, swallowed,
And kicked through leaves,
Worried. What was
A waltz? I learned when
My mom swept me
Through the living room,
Her hand in my hand,
My other on her waist.
When the phone rang,
She handed me a
Broom, and said, “Practice.”
So I held the thinnest girl ever,
My flat-chested partner,
And swished and swayed,
Dipped and bowed.
On the night of
The fall dance, Mom used
That broom to sweep me
From the house.
I wish I could write you the saddest country song
About loneliness, horses, a pretty girl
Broken up by failed love. But what would I do with it?
I can't sing, or play guitar.
I love you so much. A melody runs through
My mind, but I'm not sure if it's mine.
Country music makes you sad.
I'm going to put on my granddad's cowboy hat,
And lick a pencil and write a song on an envelope.
But first I'm going to eat a peach
And think of you as a peach, something really sweet.
I'm going to get my dog to howl as I write,
There was this pretty girl, hanging tears on a line...
Beautiful Trouble
They say you have a tattoo of a butterfly
On your thigh, but how will I know?
That you can uncurl cigarette smoke at will,
That you can cuss in six languages,
That your last boyfriend is using a whole box
Of Kleenex to wipe away his river of tears.
These are rumors, just rumors.
But I can see. You're dressed in beautiful trouble,
The skirt that swings and the low-cut blouse,
And I may as well mention the red smile,
The ring on your loveliest toe,
And the glance in a compact mirror,
Seeing me watch you.
When you raise your hand in class,
Your bracelets ring. You seldom get the answer
Right, but who cares!
My dad, a deacon in the church, warns,
“Watch out for girls who cause trouble.”
Indeed, I watch every day as you swing
Down the hallways, the little roll of muscle
In your calf, and somewhere up higher,
The rumor of a butterfly.
Busted
What was it, three weeks ago?
I went to your house
And there, in the living room,
A robot vacuum cleaner
Whirled away, searching for dirt.
The noisy gadget was working around
The fireplace, choking on cinders,
Ashes, and burnt matchsticks.
Then it turned to me
And started sucking at my shoelaces.
Was it pulling away my dirt?
I had to grin. Only then
I sat you on the couch
And told you, “Yeah, I had a girlfriend
But we're over.” But I was busted.
The robot vacuum cleaner,
Sensing a filthy lie—I hadn't
Yet really broken up with my girlfriend—
Chased me from your super-clean house.
Tree Bark
In front of campus we meet
And you whisper, “Dad doesn't like you.”
I push my fingers underneath the bark,
Peel it like a scab. Does the tree hurt?
Does the sunlight press its warmth into the skin?
Does an ant visit this pain?
I push my fingernails into my skin,
And the bite hurts. What sun will heal me?
Simple Me
For you, beauty is natural,
Even as you push away from the cafeteria table
And carry your plate to the conveyor belt.
I hurry behind you, wobbly as the chair
You pushed away, and look at your plate.
I see that you left a few peas,
Those plump little guys jumping on the plate,
Almost doing a samba. I watch the plate
Disappear behind a curtain and think,
Lucky fork touched your lips.
A Certain Weakness
I'm 6'l", weigh 180, mostly muscle,
And hero of a 43–42 overtime game last week.
Did you see it? I scored the last basket
And was thrown into the air—and caught!
I rode to the locker room on the roar
Of victory. I'm strong, you see.
But if you were to bump into me in the cafeteria,
You, who are 5'3", slight as a swan,
My legs would buckle.
My friends would have to carry me away.
It's exhausting thinking of you,
And in this game of love, I don't think I can score.
The Koi at the Museum Pond
A large golden koi surfaced,
Wise as an old man with a Fu Manchu beard.
I thought, He's going to tell me something,
Something about us.
He lowered his head,
And a ripple spread on the greenish water.
I stared at the water reflecting the rolling clouds.
The day will pass, a week,
A month ... I told myself that if I stir
The surface with the tip of my shoe
The ancient and wise koi will surface,
Even larger. When he opens his mouth,
He'll speak our names.
The Birds and the Bees
First Dad hitched
Up his pants, unbuckled
His belt because dinner
Was spaghetti, and lowered
Himself into his recliner.
He ran his hand over
His face, then looked at
His fingernails—spaghetti sauce.
“Let me tell you about girls,”
Dad began, and then said,
“Well, they're usually shorter
Than us guys.” I was thinking
Of Sarah from biology,
How she came up
To my shoulder,
And the scalpel in her hand—
The poor frog didn't blink
When she ran a slice
Up its belly.
He then said, “They cry
Sometimes, and they like shoes.”
Where was Dad going?
“Girls are smarter,” he added,
“But we sort of know
More practical things”—
He pointed to the
Ceiling and I knew what
He meant—the cooler on the roof
I oiled last weekend.
“Girls are emotional,” he started,
But then leveled his gaze
On the television.
“What the heck!”
Dad crowed. “It's snowy.”
I had to climb to
The roof to get the picture
Right for him, Dad
Yelling, “Left, turn it left,
No right, right I said!”
I never learned about
The birds and the bees
Until later.
Boy Artist
I think of you miles away.
We're on vacation, surf and sun,
And campfires under icy stars.
You're lovely. I draw hearts in the sand,
And the wind nudges them away.
That's okay. It's practice.
With the beach as my canvas, I draw hearts,
And the tide at four in the afternoon
Laps at the edges, dissolves our initials.
But our love will never wash away.
I'll be back in two days,
Sand under my fingernails,
Some in my ears from laying my head
On the beach and thinking of you.
Rumors
They say love makes you speechless,
That it takes your breath away,
And right now, as you round
The corner in the hallway,
I, who was telling a friend about the F chord
On a guitar, become speechless.
You pass, and I double over,
Like when, in first grade, Marc Steinberg
Hit me in the stomach
And took my breath away.
But this strike, this beauty of yours,
Is another kind of hurt.
Faces
With a pen, I drew little faces
On your fingertips, ten in all,
And you said, “You love me, huh?”
They were happy faces.
You showed them to your
Friend, who laughed,
Clapped, and said,
“Wow, you're so lucky, girl.”
That was between third
And fourth period,
And by fifth period—
I don't know how
This happened—I fell
In love with this other
Girl, a musician who
Plays first violin in orchestra.
You and I met after school.
I kicked leaves, bit
My upper and lower lip
A hundred times,
And then confessed,
“You know Rebecca...”
You made a face, cried.
You raised your hands
And wiggled the fingertips
At me—the ink had run.
Each little face
Was sobbing, dropping
Little black tears.
Rationale
Already tall at thirteen, she walks
In platform shoes. I can't help
But think like a guy.
We could use a center—
We're 0–3 at the start of the season,
And so ugly on the court
We could use beauty.
A Lesson for Us
I rode over on my bike
And you hopped onto the bar,
Giggled when I took the grassy hill
Down your lawn to the park.
We lay on the grass,
Half in, half out of shadows
And smiled sleepily at the sky.
I kissed your knuckles
And you kissed me
Near my mouth,
Then on my mouth.
We then watched a couple
From a wedding party
Pushing a car. “See,” I said,
“See how much love costs?”
The flowers in the woman's hair
Scattered like confetti
And with each push from
The back fender,
Anger sparked
From her knife-sharp heels.
Eternal Love
What's the meaning of time?
You said, “I'll be with you forever.”
We lasted two weeks, one afternoon,
A half hour, a few minutes,
A sweep of seconds on the last day
Of the solstice. This sorrow
You gave me remains.
I could paw at the calendar of hurt,
And you'll be there
Like radium, like uranium,
Whatever element lasts forever.
But who cares about me?
Some joker said, “Love is eternal
As long as it lasts.”
I feel him.
Danger
The storm dropped six feet of snow,
And with it, an electrical wire in front of our house.
It snaps and moves like a snake.
When will the police arrive?
Or a worker who will set safety cones in the road?
Isn't it a hazard, a hot wire in snow?
School is closed. The house is dark.
I'm thinking of you huddled near a candle.
If I knew you were in trouble,
I would take a shovel and shovel my way
To your house, six blocks away,
And risk live wires hissing like snakes.
Love, I know, can be hazardous to my health.
Time
Tired of the same cats in the Dumpster,
Tired of blaring radios, of gangsters with their grills,
We rode one bike to the park,
Where we bought a single bottle of water
And lay on the spongy grass. I told you
Three times that I loved you,
And you said, “Okay, write it on my shoulder.”