Show Don’t Speak

my laughter shows you
the me buried under the storm
of my becoming

my sleepiness on your couch
sings the song of my comfort
with you

my hands in my lap
touch my neck when I think of
touching you

my respect looks like
the drive home I take
each night.



I didn’t want to let go of your hand
as we walked you through your greatest fear.

The sand felt like it swallowed me whole
hurling pod after pod of seaweed at my ankles

tempting me to give in to anti-balance

but I felt your hand, the smooth skin, the slant of the sea
slick between our fingers, but unable to break
this bond.

[(Zero to sixty) + (120) (Me)]

This is how I know my company is great
I can be stuck in traffic the entire way
and feel like the ride wasn’t long enough.

I can feel the wind getting warmer
as I descend from the sky to the ground
my mouth gaping a silent scream
and then a screaming smile.

The food settles my stomach
the mocha washes the seawater from my mouth
the surf beckons me deep like a warm lover
before throwing me over its shoulder
and knocking me head over feet.

I can hear the heartbeat from your shoulder
the breath in your lungs through the sand
each movement of your lounging body hums
and I am drawn to the back of your neck
the swell of her chest
the trifecta touching of our minds.

I picture me pillowing between you like I felt in that plane
one snug to my lap and the other folded around my back
whispering to me nice things.
Instead I sleep on the damp towel, the wind kissing my ear
the sun rubbing light into my skin
the day yawning for more.

I can think as each hand propellers outward in the lot
behind the boardwalk
how lucky I am to be the third
in the running chatter of this day
the crunch of a dill pickle salivating my tongue
the tickle of nerves when my soul trips and falls
onto the table next to the sandwiches
the endearing moments of silence pressed into our palms
like napkins we press to our lips.

I can lounge in the darkness, watching the sleepy sink into your shoulders
the liquid excitement drawing from our cups as we sip from the seductive screen
one gleaming 120-minute ride of madness
one full season of summer compressed into one world of day

and I am living.