on the pillow next to mine, after a long day.
And thinking about the warmth of your hand on my cheek
And the force of those same hands on my chest
And the cold on my back
When you tossed me like a pebble
across the cold lake
of a brick wall in the middle of a no where parking lot
with two spaces
for me and for you
and no room
in the kitchen where you tried
to feed to me finery
and filled my mouth with things
that I'd never said
on valentines day
I rolled in snow earlier alone trying
to save you from yourself
to show you something larger
than you will ever see
more than me in the snow somewhere between
the 13th and the 14th parallels of February
at your hands in the space
between the space and the car
and the space between the accusation of demission
I forcibly lie beneath
when Seuss said that Unless someone like you cares
a whole awful lot
nothing is going to get better... It's not."
And from that point on I'll always remember
placing a fine bracelet on your wrist
and snow in the kitchen
and snow on my face
your breath perfumed
with yesterday's booze
and yesterday’s rage
and yesterday’s denial of responsibility
denial of reasonability
denial of the tenderness that was me.
Happy Valentines day.
Tomorrow we'll go to DC
and I'll stick my tongue in your ass.
in a fine hotel with nicked furniture from
your fine political hell bereft
of wondering why
why am I here
why does this taste like bullshit incognito?