i am the roving cynic,
clinging desperate to your
thick ankles, silently begging
face down into the bedsheets
that you won't leave me.

so desperate is my ache for you,
that even when you leave for mundane things,
a visit to the bathroom or to get a drink of water,
i am wringing my hands, pressing fingers into my soft stomach
wondering who you might meet on the way
and if you'll be engaged by them.

i don't want to feel this way.
i imagine a courage that
runs away from you because
this mad urgency
might as well be your open palm
pressing my head into raging waters.

i drop you off, after two days together
and even driving from your driveway
back to route 91, i cannot keep myself from
breaking something awful.
i think,
the scenic area is just a mile up
and if i threw this car over the edge,
i could stop being this lunatic,
preemptively jealous of every person who hasn't
even met you yet,
and still i know they're falling in love with you
somewhere else.

09/09/2009

Posted on 09/09/2009
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