home invaders

blazing love from the top of the tub to the bottom of the place where i rubbed you. oh, if i could love you i would make the most of it, running like a wild man to the top of the hill screaming till the flowers covered their ears and fell in the chill morning soft low buzz of the coming day, running. waitress comes to my table interrupts the writing, but i’m fighting with the ugliness, outside the dim lighting in this cafe writing, i read about a sighting of a lust that became love that became death that became trust, but too late. i wonder what a bright night looks like, tight lips keeping shut all the shit that we left in the back of the car, when i looked you up and down, on the west coast, in the future, with all the LA friends i made, while i was abroad. we downed tubs of beer, but the time is what made us close, as always. shared a small space, saw each other’s belly button lint, hinted at what we couldn’t deny about ourselves if we sat together long enough. moments like these, filled in between the moments we all know, the ones like warm streetlight snow, or tree-breezes that we happen to catch in our own branches. i wonder what i'll do with you, once everything falls away and it’s just us? what will you do with me? i trust you much more than i trust myself, rusting since the first act of love in my life, my birth, i continued to just take and take, and my love burns up like calories, or tiny sticks, but i keep finding em’! over and over, i’m good at it. i find nice little sticks, break them into fifths and burn them till i make a home upon your lip, i never even noticed the tattoo above your hip. like a gun, ready to fire accidentally downwards, making holes, that we toe while we talk. so exhausted, by the end, ready to sleep. but you remind me, there’s a place we haven’t gone yet- that you know about. in the restaurant, toying with the waitress like a basketball, she is smiling genuinely, because her soul is a perfect glow, thriving on this evening especially. my ammo is my gummy teeth and earthy smell, yours you keep in your purse. you purse your lips, something you never do. i wonder what i’ll do with you. in the car, we watch the flickering tv, trees and lights and walls and houses, rolling shutter, i mutter something, and we- back at the house- it doesn’t feel like mine, or yours, so we just sit their like home invaders, pressing each other’s buttons, turning each other’s dials, trying to get each other’s appliances properly arranged on each other’s counter tops. the banter never stops and i forget to kiss you. my intent, born upon my thirsty ledge at my birth, urged by absence of much at all, fails because of my forgetfulness, and hesitation. my fears swarm. the radiator is warm. we sit by it, finally quiet. the window does a dance for us.


Richmond, VA

studying film in Prague

Joseph McCormickComment