A Memory From the White Apartment on Madrazo

October 4, 2014

I crave the breath of your words
for the way the tip of your tongue hits your teeth on the Spanish T

The long tomorrows will continue to come
as the sun hangs red and ominous over drought-stricken rolling hills

For the fever in your eyes
for the way you fuck and your fire

For the persistence that wins you everything you ever wanted
but leaves your belly never feeling full

I still crave and miss
your wild hair
and delicate wrists

The scrupulous nature
and the scalpelling out of every word

The crumbs on your newspaper
and coffee
and juice

Thumbing through and reciting reviews
finite always
pitch perfect

These words fall from me
like a soft slow ribbon

Some sort of solace

slipping away


2 Responses to “A Memory From the White Apartment on Madrazo”

  1. Luke Ring Says:

    Your best and worst self…

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