She thinks about strangers and the way they make her feel poetry without words, falling in love until her eyes fall away sometimes up to 100 times a day. Feeling as easily as sun comes through a window; warm and stuffy, blocking out the cold and the breeze. She’s a little more lost with a map, a little less tough with a frown. No rose petals falling from hips nor wisdom from mouths, no gold from hair nor feathers from fingertips. She is just the kind to tell you with such conviction that her dreams are truths that you start to believe in the religion of her mind. Don’t be fooled, salt water eyes will drown you not refresh you. She has a storm inside too strong to be seen on the horizon, no calm before because no-one ever taught her to be silent. Cursing life in the same tune she sings it, falling in love with strangers with gardens that need rain in their eyes.
perspective
Selective Memory
Cut throat razors will remind me of you,
like cut throat words remind you of me.
I will remember yogurt scooping,
cake bringing, ice cream eating,
and messy room.
But how will you remember pushy,
on-time, omelet making,
and clean freak.
When you might be remembering
skinny dipping, house rules, nice bum,
doesn’t like chocolate,
and daddy issues.
But then again you might think I remember
socially awkward, baggy pants, always late,
big mistakes, you deserve more
and nice eyes.
What I know we know is special chocolate chip cookies,
stigmas, stahp, late night Wendy’s,
cry-laughing, medium double-double,
and eskimo kisses.
Safety-pinned socks will remind me of you,
like safety-pinned seams remind you of me.
