Me All Over (Everyday Inspiration, Day 17)

so cal love

If I were to draw a map of my life,
it would be vast and complicated.
It would include valleys, mountains,
small towns, beaches, lakes, oceans,
cities, deserts, freeways, dirt roads.
Off-ramps where we had sex,
parking lots where we fought.
Schools- the one we met at,
the ones I went to as a child,
the one I go to now and
the preschool
our firstborn is about to start.
Streets you parked on
when there was nowhere to go.
The driveway where I once flashed you,
now our encounters there are PG.
The dorm-rooms
where we became explorers
of the human body.
The mall where you left me
and things didn’t go as planned.
Santa Monica.
The carnival from March 20-14.
The big, abandoned, red hotel
that fascinated me.
Travel Lodge and Knight’s Inn
and America’s Best Value Inn
and the showers on Coronado beach.
Glenoaks Blvd and
West Hollywood.
The gas station where
I used student loan money.
2N10 (forest road)
or maybe it was 2N14,
heck, it might have been 2N17
or some other combination of numbers.
The hospital where our children were born
and the curb where you blew out two tires.
Las Vegas
and the spots we had car trouble.
Miller Park and Meadow too.
The airspace above this country
and a handful of airports.
You’re all over the map,
but not absolutely everywhere.


I think Christmas might always
remind me of you.
Already as I read
The Night Before Christmas to T
(it’s his favorite right now),
I think of you and your dad,
who I never got to properly meet.

Sometimes I sit dangerously,
thinking that somehow you’d see
and you’d have to say something to me
because it would bother you that much,
that you’d forget that we’re pretending
not to know each other.
I’d get under your skin again.

Rupert, because we both like gingers.

I thought we would
have a thousand more
conversations in your garage
or under blankets
in your living room,
not watching Harry Potter.

Hundreds of trips
in your friends’ cars.
And we’d go to the movies
but view separate titles.
I’d say I don’t like my hair sometimes,
you’d say it’s beautiful always.

So many words
we’ll never say now.
I think we were both
set on destroying
any chance of us
before we even started us.

Borrowing a line from H:
One store towns
make me feel
a certain kind of way.
Will I be able to breath
next time I see you in aisle 9B?

C, if ever you read this,
know there was is gravity
between us.
Heart gravity and soul gravity.
The world will keep us apart,
unless our hearts conquer the world.

Little Town

Little Town, how I dislike you.
Do you ever get tired of being so low?
I mean, look up at those glorious mountains
all around you, do you envy them?
I do. My true love sleeps
on one of those mountains.

Your fields are a thing of beauty though.
On the bus once, C pointed one out,
said he knows the guy who owns it
and he helped clean the place up once.
I’ve been told you are named for these gorgeous expanses.
Squares of green amidst all the brown.

Little Town, how I like you.
Not always, but sometimes.
Especially when I meet C at 6 something AM
and he tells me random facts
about this place I thought I knew so well.
He reminds me how alive you are.

Let me stay as long as I need to.
I don’t mean to hurt you
by wanting to leave,
but I feel like someone else
can offer me more of what I need.
But Little Town, for now it’s you and me.

Small Town Subculture

M on the bus,
she’s a strange one.
Some days she doesn’t
say a word to me,
some days she acts
like I’m her best friend.
She calls my headphones “ears”
and compares me to her daughter.

The cute driver with the tattoos,
do you remember him?
He’s got a wife and five kids.
I know, that surprised me too.
He seems to be able to read
my mood as soon as the door opens.
He remembers my name,
probably because M talks about me.

There’s another M.
He’s kind of into me,
which is weird.
I find nothing likeable about him.
He’s slurring if it’s later than 5 PM.
Plus he wears a Ducks jersey,
if I liked hockey, I’d be a Kings fan.

Then there’s C.
He’s twenty two
and he’s got a beard.
He’s usually covered in grease
and worried about his hair.
I can’t say his name out loud
when I talk to him.

The people on the bus
go “blah blah blah”
“blah blah blah”.
The people on the bus
go “blah blah blah”
all through the town.

this lake town

i wish you and i
could walk by the lake
like we used to
years ago when we loved

but i hate that lake
i wish it would dry up
and with it the whole damn town
but ill change my mind in a minute

every inch of that town
has a memory
some good some bad
a lifetime full but not quite

so just take a walk
with me tonight under the moon
like you promised me
one birthday forever ago

*In response to Stroll.