Big Timber and Jackson Hole

Big Timber

You said,

"I love you.

Don't tell anyone." 

You were wasted, I know

but I wish you hadn't been. 

Because I'm lonely 

on the road, 

alone. 

And domestication seems nice when you're eating Lunchables from gas stations 

and keeping classic books in a plastic tub. 

I, and you, 

left it at, 

"If it's not through Jackson then yes, you are going in the wrong fucking direction." 

Maybe in the next hour 

You'll surprise me.

Jackson Hole

He came back to my window 

and said,

"I just wanted another hug and maybe a kiss." 

I pretended 

like I didn't hear him. 

 Because I was thinking about your attention to my ass, 

eating me out from behind, 

I fantasize about this daily, 

"one last taste"--

and then you skipped out into the cold to grab a condom from the truck.

Hesitation and bite marks aren't your thing? 

"I can change. I can change. I can change. I can change. 

I can change. I can change. I can change. 

If it helps you fall in love. If it helps you fall in love." 

Repeating wine bar playlist, 

fuck off. 

Anger is always associated with fire

You want me to make a poem of it?

I'll make a poem of it.

Since you need answers,

            some understanding in the way I  marry Centralia

to you.

There was no fire.

There was no fire.

It wasn't like we expected. 

So a ghost town means a ghost heart, huh? Must we always search for a link between every arbitrary impulse? 

It's only fire. 

It's only fire. 

You ask if I'm 100% sure.

It's like saying "always" or "never." 

Didn't you learn anything in science class? 

But I saw it with my own eyes.

There was no fire.

There was no fire.

I'll put your questions before mine.

It's the selfless thing to do. 

I know how much you want selfless, like all the rest...  

You like how I smell from afar

but your kind is always so quick to bath me

in cages 

of attention,

demanding me to tiptoe on hot coals. 

"It's only fire. 

It's only fire." 

Fucking the Mirror

"There's a city somewhere
And you wonder
If you could have the same thing, as one thing
Two sides of the same cracked plate --
Or if it's always four halves,
Two plates in two universes
In colors so different, one isn't a color
More a feeling than a sound."
            -Excerpt from a poem I did not write, but wish I had...

He doesn't bore me. He makes me nervous.

Holding up a mirror can be tough.

And in him, I see the things about myself I never noticed with self-reflection.

"I just thought you were the go with the flow type."

We were somehow both on a bed that neither of us could comfortably fit on alone. In a room claustrophobic for two people that don't know each other that well.

How many times have I said those exact words in an effort to get what I want?

It was in a similar vein the email I wrote to South Africa when he interrupted going down on me to say how he already feels attached to me and he doesn't want just frivolous sex but he also just got out of a relationship and so doesn't want to get in another, yada, yada...

This couldn't have waited? I wanted him to shut the fuck up. I wanted him to continue wanting me. I wanted him to fall in love with a fun-loving person who knew there would be a bereavement in 5 months.

So I said, just go with it.

But in being the one on the other side, it's not so easy, "to just go with it."

People allow things to hold them back, and those things aren't always unacceptable or inferior to the chaotic impulsion that "go with the flow" types exude. The baggage can be mature, to care about how your actions will not only affect yourself but others.

It's not that I'll feel bad for South Africa... We both understand the basis, that no rules are spoken so no rules exist.

I'll feel bad for the other one, because I'm kissing him but thinking about course curls and bony hips. I want to be present. But it' unlikely I will be until the act is done. It won't be a pity fuck, but an appeasement, knowing that the ideals I tout can be lived.