Duck, Duck, Goose, and We Go Around Merrily/120416

People don’t build relationships.
Relationships build themselves,
often accidentally.
That’s the beauty of it.
And last night
I saw the Christmas lights
on your bedroom curtains.
It reminded me of a dream
I once had about us.
It was the one with the stars,
billions of them and the distance
between us that didn’t exist.
The distance does not exist,
except when you create it.
This distance you fabricate
to keep yourself safe.
But I could keep you
or at least try my damnedest
On the nights no one’s looking
we look like we fit,
as you curl your body
around me
and I’ve stopped wearing socks to bed
just to feel your cold feet.
Sometimes you call me baby
or interlace your fingers with mine,
those are the moments
you forget what we are
and get lost
in what we could be.
You can keep calling a duck
a goose,
but she knows what she is.

We’re Without a Title, But She’s Got a Clean One

Maybe dreams do come true.
I got a Bug, not the Bug,
but it’s a beginning.

Plain black t-shirt,
black jeans, tan boots.
No sunglasses. Your hair’s growing.

The only other part
that really matters
is the part where you’re single.

I still love your style,
but can’t keep my eyes
from undressing you.

This poem is about
too many things,
not sure where the sense is.

My mind wanders.
My mind wonders
if this is the conversation we’d have.

In Dreams

I have this fantasy
where you don’t have a girl
and I win the lottery.

We wouldn’t be extravagant,
just pay off our student loans,
buy a nice home.

Three bedrooms and a garage,
enough space for O to run,
and a swing set and a slide.

Space for an alpaca or two.
You’d get a Firebird
and I the gold Bug.

College funds for the boys.
You could take a year or two off work.
I’d pay for your firefighter training.

I’d probably give the rest away
because I’d be the richest woman alive
with you by my side.

Little Lights

I had a beautiful dream last night,
or at least it started out that way.
You showed up at my house;
I don’t know why, but you stayed.
We laid in the driveway
and talked while we watched the sky.
There were more stars than I knew existed.
And as the universe grew bigger,
the space between us grew smaller.
Almost innocent, yet oh so intimate.
We talked for hours,
until I told you to go home.
The responsible thing to do
because I couldn’t let you do that to her.
But then there was chaos.
I don’t know if you ever made it home;
couldn’t find you
and woke up distressed.
Visit me again while I sleep
and we can pick up where we left off.