Everything in Between

Tea for you and coffee for me
before we slouched up the street and
discovered boots and parasol
by the Greek Orthodox Church
on Sixth Street.
Afterwards, we payed your rent and
visited Orange Street to grab cider,
running into Aimee (and later Alex)
as we always do.
You were trying to pose
but instead I made you laugh
revealing
a true smile that reached your eyes.
This is the side of you
that I love to see:
Your visage unaltered by
glimpsing passersby,
when you squint your eyes and
choke with laughter and
we embrace with shuddering bodies
because this inside joke is
just for you and me.
But still it runs deeper than that.
When we rendezvous
after working days and
devolve into various states
of comfortable undress and
we share our thoughts on the day,
and yesterday and tomorrow.
When we disclose the
trauma and joy
of our lives before
we met each other and
when we share our dreams and musings
about what the future will bring and
we truly get to see inside one another.
When you show me the
doodles of dachshunds that
you drew in your notes and
your portfolio
full of full-fleshed beauties,
all demons and saints and
everything in between.
When you sing me songs that you wrote
in times of distress
or in times of serenity and
drunkenness,
about past loves and past victories and
butt rock ballads bathed in comedy and,
everything in between.
When you tell me about
the far-reaching epics that you have
envisioned in your mind,
written down somewhere and
all ready to be told in full,
imbued with your passion for
priceless storytelling and art and,
once again,
everything in between.
When I get to see the sides of you
that nobody else gets to see,
I swoon with love and smiles and ecstacy.
As we touch each other in both
our bodies and our minds and
I commit to memory every special time,
I think back to the night we met,
standing by the streetlight
on Fifth and Higgins,
kitty-cornered to Big Dipper,
when we hugged each other for
the very first time and
didn’t want to let go.
You murmured softly into my ear,
“I am really glad I met you.”
and then you walked on,
into the evening, and
in that simple moment
on that beautiful and blurry April night
so many doors and windows
slid open in the name of possibility.
And I must say, my darling,
that I am really glad I met you too.

(From December 2016)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s