Often, you call me up in the morning as soon as you’re awake and you say hey how are you did you sleep well when can I pick you up wear those shorts with the buttons please for me?
And I laugh and feel light about you and I say hey give me forty minutes I need a shower
But you say no sweetheart just take a shower with me
So i see you seven minutes later, long enough for mascara and clean underwear and I’m brushing my hair with my fingers in your car and you’re waiting for me to finish so you can hold my hand while you speed around the most dangerous turn, one hand on the wheel if I’m lucky.
And there are some days these things happen and I am in love
But there are others I am an angry claustrophobic drunk and I feel sick to look at you.
Those days when I get into your car and kiss you, it is out of habit only. Those days I hate myself and you and the stuck I am feeling
The neurosis between the slant-eyed impulse to escape and the ache of injury to you.
I settle for emotional distance only and close my eyes early
face turned on instinct to the window.
I don’t know what you’re feeling, I tune you out and my volcano insides harden in that hostility
But I wake up curled around your body like a baby afraid of being dropped.
Because It’s everyday I feel alone
in another layer of the atmosphere
if both of your hands,
all of your fingers
are not on me,