you say you cannot stomach it,
the way i bleed in blues and grays.
you say that the salt on my skin
is an acquired taste that you've yet
to acquire but that sampling now and
again will never be dangerous enough.
will never be good enough for
a tongue so hell-bent on getting wet
by swallowing all that grows bitter
with time. and i open
myself in riddles,
and you learn again
to glide.

you think everything
should be taken out in trade.

i couldn't reach you fast enough
to show you otherwise so i gave
you all i am and you gave me
you some of the time. it's no use.
the more i reason it all away,
the more unclear the reasons become.

i could not give any good explanations
so i learned instead how to give good
head to all of the intentions you had
that crowded us. they weren't all good
but they weren't all bad so i'll give you
that. and you can keep giving me this:

a hundred and one temporary excuses to gloss
over what you have become and what i've grown
to be now that we have grown apart,

now that you can no longer stomach me.

02/24/2003

Posted on 02/25/2003
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