Tell me about him.
He was sixteen once,
but then again, maybe he’s only ever been
He loves motorcycles.
Ink under skin, all over.
Vaguely remember owls,
the taste of tobacco on his lips.
The scent of bourbon
as he exhales into my hair.
Rough hands rest gently
A motorcycle accident,
I lived it a thousand times
before it ever happened.
“You hungry?” and “How are you?”
Whispers in the middle of the night
that keep holding on.
Promises to our children
that we’ll do the best we can
and then try to do better,
and those same promises
are for me too.
He’s twenty-five, a good man.
*Note: The main part of this task was to get inspired by a tweet, but an alternate route was to get inspired from a quote from Goodreads, so I chose that path.
“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
― Elbert Hubbard
By this definition, I have about 2 and a half friends. This is totally cool with me though because I like it better that way, being close to only a few people, but being extremely close to them. So here’s how 2 and a half breaks down: H is about three quarters of a friend, my sister-in-law JT is about three quarters of a friend, and R accounts for one whole friend.
The reason H counts for only three quarters is because he doesn’t know everything yet and honestly I’m not sure if he’ll stick around once he knows the darker parts of my soul, but I hope he stays. JT is only at three quarters because she knows almost everything, but her love is conditional to a degree. R knows basically everything (except a few details of the past 2+ years that I haven’t found a way to tell him about) and his love is truly unconditional. I don’t think I really want more friends than these. I know JT and R would both be there for me in a heart beat if I asked for their help. I love H and JT in the way I love my siblings (well most of my siblings, except MK, but that’s a whole different story).
But R, of course, is in a different category because well for starters he was/is my first love, it meant enough that I married him, and to top it off he’s the father of my children, so even though we are now divorced (or maybe we’re not, I never got any final papers) I still count him as my closest friend. We disagreed about preschool in my parents’ driveway yesterday and during every moment of it I felt love for him, even when I was jumping up and down in frustration and he laughed a little, even when he questioned whether or not he himself had turned out okay and I wanted to yell at him not out of spite or anger but out of frustration that he does not see what an amazing man he has become.
when the air conditioner’s too cool
and you crave the warm outside air
I’m drinking coffee from a can,
but coffee’s always come in a can
like the ones we used as stilts
when we were twelve or eleven
and my best friend’s name started with K,
but her real one started with A
she never used that name until
she married a “man” who abused her
they had a daughter
who was born ill, now she’s eight
K now goes by K again
and has another daughter with another man
she has blue eyes and blond hair
not like her Mexican sister
the new man drives race cars
and makes friends with butterflies
it’s been too long since we’ve talked,
but I guess that’s what happens
we drift away until we all float alone
in the ocean, waiting to collide