the dream i never had

You look
familiar
Like we
Met before.
You look like
Someone I knew in
Maybe a past life
But your smile is so fresh
Pure, hasn't
Been stained with lies.
Your eyes are so clear
Surely if we've met-
They hold secrets.
Are these things
True?
It's just a feeling
I know, but
You look
So familiar.

At any rate
It's nice to meet you

Again.

maximum warp

consider us lost
in the most familiar surroundings
lost in each other flying through this life.
We watch our good captain
Janeway guide her crew home
Are we too not trying to find
our way home?
We left the home we grew up in
making temporary ones along the way
until we have one of our own
of permanence.
Flung across the galaxy
isn't so far fetched when you consider
how long it takes to meet
in the same place
open the same door and
look at the same eyes every day
for the end of our time.
Our time warp is set to maximum.
Slow to impulse, Ensign Kim.
Following morals and keeping principles
making sure we are just in our quest
our journey home.
We spent twenty two
and nineteen years
being destroyed here
repairing there
learning as much as we could
about races and cultures
and then we meet
this instant shifted our paradigm
Like Janeway and her crew-
there's a universe to explore
there's always a path towards home
and once we get there
we can start making it
calling it
home.

Voyager is more than
a show we share
it's a metaphor
for where we're headed
as long as your hand
is in mine
and my heart
is in yours.
Lieutenant Paris-
Lay in a course
for home.

evening kitchen

i never watched you in the kitchen before. usually i was right by your side, doing whatever. i wish i had taken a step back, like working on a painting, and seen you there- the big picture. What i would give

Calvin came home from school, you watched him get off the bus.He wasn't happy with himself, he had a pout on his face. He came in and threw a stack of papers on the kitchen island while you washed an apple for him. Before he could run off too far you called him back, and looked through the papers. He got a D on an a paper he wrote for class. It was weird, him writing papers in second grade- well, they were cute and he loved reading them to us. This one was different.

You pulled him up on to the stool by the island- god, when did he get so heavy- his blond hair caught your cheek, it was warm. You wrapped your arms around him and looked over his paper, you asked him to read it out loud. After he pouted, he obliged. As you sliced his apple he read the title "daddy's pictures". You chuckled, cause Calvin never called them "paintings"- why is that? He read his paper about how daddy likes to paint pictures of people and things and use lots of color and puts them all over the house. But he gets sad when they go away. If only he knew it was to pay for what he had- one day he'll know. The note from the teacher was mostly about Cal being off topic- and he was- but you couldn't scold him. Like always, you told him to do better next time.

While Cal was reading, the phone rang- your hands were sticky from the apple and didn't want to cut off Cal. So it went to voice mail. By the time Cal was done eating and kicking off his shoes everywhere you forgot about it. That's how it happens sometimes. You checked your cell to see if i had texted- i hadn't.

You took Cal for a walk down the street to a park. We usually do this together, but i wasn't home. Cal was calling for you to walk faster, but you were distracted- looking around- worried. You heard sirens in the distance- naturally you texted to see if i was coming home soon.

When i didn't respond for a little bit you took Cal home. He was so angry, he wanted to swing on the swingset and go down the slide at least once. You told him not today- and he hung his head, near tears all the way home. Something didn't feel right, so you picked up pace. by the time you were at the yard you were practically running. You came in and slammed the door- Cal went up to his room and you went to the kitchen. You poured yourself some water and leaned against the cabinet. Our home was so warm. You could tell real people with real lives and real love lived here. You were happy this morning, i woke you up early to tell you i love you, before i went to work. I usually let you sleep.

The phone rang. You picked it up and it was your sister. You two talked, caught up- she's coming to visit for a week- when you saw the message light flash. You forgot all about the call earlier. You wrapped up with her and pressed the check voice mail button when Cal screamed from up stairs. You don't even remember how you got up there, or how fast- it was a blur and then you were hovering over Cal in the bathroom with blood on his cheek. He cut himself with my razor. He wanted to shave like daddy. How do you punish him for such a cute thing? You cleaned him up and put a band aid on it. You two went down stairs and he turned on the tv. The sun was setting.

You tried calling me as you checked the messages on the phone. I didn't pick up- straight to voice mail. The monotone voice on the message machine droned through the date and time and then-

This is Officer Williams with the Rhode Island Police Department. We are at on the scene of major collision on the interstate. Your husbands driver's license was found in the car- he is still being extricated from the vehicle and unrecognizable. We are sending an officer to your address for further assistance. Please be in contact as soon as possible. Thank you.

Nothing went on for five minutes as the message buzzed out. The sun set and you still stared at the phone. Cal came behind you and asked where I was. You fell to the ground and held your chest to breath. It came sporadically and it scared Cal. He started crying, calling for you- mommy. Tears flooded your eyes- you tried whiping them away, to no avail. I wasn't coming home tonight, ever. Your face gaped- the air just wouldn't fill your lungs. you leaned forward, your face touched the floor as you gasped for the air, the wood was cool on your cheek. The hot tears puddled around you. Cal ran to the front door, trying to open it. You got to your knees and crawled to the living room- reaching for your cell to call someone. anyone. to beg for this not to happen. The front door clicked. Cal fell backward.

I came in, confused by Cal on the floor and you draped over the sofa, hysterical. I dropped my things and ran to you. I held you tight and asked what the matter was. You were speechless- just as confused as I. You finally reached around me and grabbed me. As you felt the heat beneath my clothes, the stubble of my cheek on your neck, you clutched me harder. A loud scream came from you as you realized i actually was here- not unrecognizable on the interstate. Cal got up and ran over to grab our legs. I held your head and rocked us all, soothing you. We stayed there untill you could talk.

I thought you were dead- you said. I had no response. I had no idea what that meant. I went and picked up the flowers i had gotten you for being home so late. You laid on the couch- lifeless- staring at me, disbelieving. Cal came and cuddled up beside you. I checked the messages and heard Office Williams explain. I turned to look at you and realized what had happened. I teared up, choked them back with little success and ran to you. We layed on the couch till the next morning.

My friend from work took me out for lunch and i left my wallet in his car. I'm always forgetting my wallet. On his way home he was involved in a multi-vehicle wreck on the interstate eastbound. This happened while i was finishing a project at the studio. As i came up the yard i picked flowers from the garden to present to you- for forgiveness. If only i had known.

Our lives changed that day. We never looked at each other the same. The petty love we felt before, the cute day-to-day stuff was gone. We realized first hand we couldn't live without each other. That love is the deepest we knew. deeper than self preservation. Our family grew and didn't stop. I only wish i could tell you at the end of every breath i love you. In case an Officer has to tell us it's over one day.

skin

I am where I said I would never be—no, not on the crest of Everest or the top floor of the Empire State Building—but on the edge of her bed. On the edge of her bed, staring out at the pool. The morning sun is reflecting off a diamond surface; the pool boy she hired for the summer keeps it looking like glass. Across my eyes—light dances across my eyes energetically, undulating to the rhythm of the water’s surface. A waltz. I am on a beach, a beach not with sand but a pink sheet overlooking a small ocean. A cell of an ocean. Its perimeter is so small for an ocean. The pink sheet is taught under me, another pink sheet is ruffled over my lap as I daze confused into this small, pristine ocean. I am where I said I would never be—on the edge of her bed.

It’s ten in the morning. Twelve hours ago I was free. Ten hours ago I was living my life to its fullest. Eight hours ago I fucked up. Big time. As I sit here, on this pink beach watching the small ocean I’m wondering where I am. I know that I’m at Sixty-Four Sundial drive. But where am I? As I sit here and ask where I am, I can tell you where I’ll be. I can look you straight in those ocean eyes and tell you where I will be. The sun rests on the ruffled pink sheet that so passively paralyzes me. I can feel the warmth seeping to my bare thighs. I haven’t moved since I sat up. I’ve been entranced by the ocean outside her window. Her window. I can tell you where I will be. I will be in happy. Or a suburb of happy. I will be in the glazed-over look of happiness. I will be by her. By her. By her side every step of the way, past moving in together, past marriage, past childbirth. I will walk with her to our divorce, then remarriage because we couldn’t find anyone else who would put up with our shit. I will walk right beside her while we bury a kid, marry a kid, and see our grandchildren at their graduation. I will walk by her through life and still on to death. For what? For what? To say I have lived. To say I have lived? Sixty-Four Sundial drive is where I will be, twenty, thirty, sixty-four years from now. For what? To say I have lived.

Eight hours ago I saw her. I saw her. My friend introduced us. Eric did. Hey, meet my friend from college he said. I met her. I met her. We hit it off. It was amazing. Nothing but laughs. I laugh. I’m laughing even now. Even now as I dent the side of her mattress. Her mattress. I sit wedged between pink sheets that I despise. I hated them the first time I saw them, five hours ago. I wanted to rip them to shreds. Fuck me. I want to rip them to shreds. I can do nothing but sit and think. Can I call this thinking? I just had the best sex with the funniest chick I’ve met in years. In twenty-three years. In my life. She’s a fling. A thing. A stranger with whom I’ve laughed. Yet I am here. That’s where I am. Here, in the last place I thought I’d be. Beside her.

Sun pours into the bedroom. The vertical blinds chop it up into bright beams of light—barring me in. Keeping me. The interstices of incandescence ignite innocent flecks of dust as they so lazily pass through the air. I can see them. They burn so brightly, then become dull again, and through another beam of light they become alive. As if the light lets them show who they really are, not lifeless bits of hair or skin, but fireworks of spectral wonder. I am a piece of dust, people I meet are the beams of light. I do my show for them, and move on. Again for the next, and so on and so forth until I find myself here. Wherever here is. This floating piece of dust has found a light stronger than others. A light that keeps me shining and doesn’t let go. A light that keeps me the next morning. Where the fuck am I? In the place I thought I’d never be. Be side her.

I am where I said I would never be. On the edge of her bed. What scares me is that I see myself here tomorrow morning. At this very hour, twenty-four from now. I see myself drawing taught a hideous pink sheet while ruffling the other over me. I want to let the sun seep through the ugly pink sheet to my thighs. I want to turn around right now and see her face. I want to see her face again tomorrow. I want to see her face again in ten years. I look out to the pool. The waves of azure crumple against the walls. The stupid pink sheets crumple across my crotch, between my thighs. They still smell like amazing sex with the funniest chick I’ve met in years. I finally find the strength, internal and external, to lift myself from the beach. I stand there. I stare out at the pool. The sun and reflection dance across my body. Every curve and edge is illuminated. The sun reaches her face. Her eyes open. As I turn around to look at her—At home—I see the very same blue I respected from her pool. I see the deepest blues. I see her. She scans my naked body. I hide nothing. As if waking from a coma, she smiles at the only face she recognizes. I run my hand across my beard. I speak to her. Don’t ask what I said because I don’t remember.

In an instant as short as my realization, I sprint. I sprint to the sliding door that framed my blue ocean. I ran from those hideous pink sheets, I ran from every light that shone on my dusty, incandescent tap dance. I ran from Sixty-Four Sundial drive. I ran for the pool. The perfect leaf-free pool that lit my body that morning. I jumped. I jumped high and I landed hard on the cool surface. Water broke. Water went everywhere. Water almost reached the sliding glass door that separated house from home. The slender, nude body of that chick I met last night. That chick that Eric introduced me too. That chick. That her joined me for a swim. Two naked people swimming in the sky. Nothing covered, nothing to hide. Just skin. Two naked people. Together.

I am where I said I would never be. Home.

the sound the sound

the music the music
doesn't describe
the sounds the sounds
pulsing through my head
beating through my heart
pouring out my mouth
falling to the ground the ground
dripping like paint
a painting a painting
of you and of me and of us
dancing across this world
this world dancing across your cheek
lacy like your hair your hair
caught in a breeze coming from
the clouds the clouds
clapping for us as we run down the aisles
and rows of people throwing rice
painting memories with
the sounds the sounds
we haven't yet made
we haven't yet heard
only coming close in
those dreams those dreams
that became our realities
words that sound like violins
laughs that sound like cymbals
kisses that sound like flutes climbing
scaling soaring high above
the din the din
of this life this life
as we know it
the silence the silence
is all we'll hear in the end
so we make all
the sound the sound
we possibly can

i once told the sky how i felt

When we've got
Something as good
As this
Oneeightymiles
Don't mean shit
There may be a lot
Of miles
Of minutes
Of people
And places
And things
Between us
But the universe buckles that
Space time continuum
Or
God punches that
Distance and
Wrinkles that's time
So that
We're nose to nose
Again

In reality
We're apart
But not for one second
Am I a p a r t from you
Cause
I'm a part of you

Those moments
When your face goes flush
And you warm up
For no reason
I've got my hand
Cupped to the sky's ear
And I'm whispering to it
How much I love you
And the sky and I giggle
As you smile
Again