when we leave the house to talk outside

the slickest rows i ever saw
were your two full eye-brows
and your behind,
the way you pressed your head into the cold
cement steps. the words you used to
talk about yourself, the fat that fell with them.
us pair who took a subway into
each other, another part of town
and weighted on our stories of sentiment and flavor.
for all that ferocity it was worth
another dumping ground,
new damp spots for affection. devotion and the
gardening of our socially amended beliefs came later,
hoeing them, fingering their leaves,
cleaning the weeds for effect.
it was supposed to be a summer for free,
a longtime choice of personally and personality
in the Association of Being Outdoors.
you wanted to be watered, saturated in a stalk and stillness,
in the main ways women like to change shape.
when i walked up on my own porch
and placed some spotted thoughts in pots
you saw how sad, the leaves were already crumpling,
how all our pretty flowers fell brown.

perfect strangers for me, perfect strangers at last

Shit Sits Still

I slant-walked from easy town to easy town
submerged in what could be called shade.
I toddled, as one toddles in park,
from slide to sand-box
and these environments weren't kept, keyed
like children expect.
While moving an invitation is always open,
open like air, open like my mouth when I watch t.v.
I wait patiently while tuning in
and leave promptly on embarrassment, harassment, assessment.
Who knew the beauty and perfection
in coming around and packing up?
A trailing sense of personality
following my steamy spots for roaming.

lots of old birthdays and new ways to get involved

birthdays are fantastic, as are parties, sleeping, eating, dancing, etc. some friends threw me a birthday party and it was gorgeous. lights, a buffet, d.j.s, pretty chocolate cake, cards, candles, cigarettes, sangria. i loved every minute and have been glum ever since. it's like christmas and once it's over, you're left a little hollow, a little pale.
i was wondering around, circling the kitchen, the dance floor, the kitchen again and my boyfriend was following me, begging me to finally come upstairs to bed. "no! ryan, it's my party," i kept saying, indignantly. we were both beyond drunk. i'm amazed he was able to pull himself together enough to reason with me in the tender, patient way i need to be reasoned with. he let me walk for awhile longer and see for myself that i could no longer maintain a conversation, let alone find one to join.
"meggie, you aren't supposed to stay until the very end. the guest of honor is supposed to party hard enough to have to leave. just say good-bye, let it go," ryan said.
i'd probably still be walking aimlessly around their apartment if it weren't for ryan.