S

It was late, but I waited up for you and we pulled a single dining room chair out onto the balcony, where I curled up in your lap. With my head against your chest, my eyes were so sleepy but your heartbeat and your stories and the chill of the night kept me awake. I refused to lose that moment, to leave it by surrendering to sleep. I told you about my father and you told me about your mother and we shared our worries, our heartbreaks, our desires. I found myself completely lost in the depth and sincerity of your voice, lost in the best of ways.

I considered how I'd ended up here in this state of pure contentment. All I'd done was turn my head and there you were. You saw me see you and you just had to walk over. You needed to know me.

Now, a couple weeks and a few phone calls later, I was in your captivating presence again. There, in that moment, I could have sworn I already knew you, that I'd looked into those eyes a thousand times over. The cool breeze held nothing against your warmth or your embrace. You sang to me and it was magnificent and all was well in my world.


Curled up in your lap on the dining room chair, I tore my eyes from yours.  I looked out over cool, misty, early morning Dublin, and I was so very alive.

This,
this is how I remember it.

haiku

To leave you doubting
all words from current lovers;
this is heartbreak's gift.

crushes

comparable only to the feeling you get from standing on the beach
with the ocean flirting relentlessly with your toes

to the first bite of any dessert or the heat of a bonfire on a crisp fall night

they're almost as good as your favorite song or flannel or home cooked meal

I might compare them to the first and last bite of Chipotle
the unmatched silence of 4:30 am
a big bunch of peonies
or jumping into a pool that's this close to being too cold, but isn't


they're easy and fun and innocent, crushes.
they're spirit-lifters and hope-givers,
and they are just so darn good.

photo by the talented Sarah Tucker

this morning

This morning, I woke up with no one to answer to.

No one to make me breakfast

or kiss me on the forehead
No one to be disappointed by

or argue with

lonely is a good word for it,
but so is freeing.

If only.

If you could take a year off from your current life and do anything in the world, what would you do?

At the end of summer, I'd buy a one-way ticket to Dublin, Ireland.

I'd set up residence in a little apartment with a fireplace, hardwood floors, and a beautiful and brightly painted front door. Yellow perhaps, or green.  I'd stroll along the bustling streets of the city centre, popping in and out of shops, coffee in hand.  On Sunday afternoons, I'd grab fresh cut flowers from Grafton Street to cheer up my kitchen table for the week. I'd eat freshly baked chocolate croissants for five out of the seven breakfasts, and maple pecan porridge from Bewley's the other two.  I'd take the train to Howth at least once a month for candied almonds from the farmer's market and to admire the sailboats in the harbor.  I'd make contact with the Irish friends I made the last time I was there, and we'd catch up over drinks in one of the dark, cozy pubs that make Dublin what it is.

Maybe on a day with no particular significance, while sitting in a cafe to avoid the rain or wandering through Trinity's campus, I'd catch a handsome man's eye, and just maybe we'd fall in love.

Every night, with the cool air rolling in, I'd wrap up in a heavy knit blanket, sit in front of a crackling fire, and I'd write. I'd write about everything I saw and heard and felt.  I'd write without any doubts or question that the words were good enough.  And it would be here, in my little apartment with the brightly painted door, typing away at my keyboard, that I'd discover who I am.

because i've been thinking of winter

you didn't have any cares, and you didn't want them.

you wanted simple pleasures.
an old, worn flannel and legs twisted in a down comforter.

a lifetime of winter's Saturday mornings, dozing in and out
between sips of something warm.
you wanted to know someone.
to learn completely the inter workings of another person’s mind,

to be acquainted with every inch of that person's body.
you wanted a love worth coming back to.

and though it didn't last long once you got it,

you had it.

it was the kind of romance that was complicated,
hard to understand, difficult even to describe.

it worked its way deep into you. it changed you.

then suddenly, the seasons changed,
and while you still didn't want them, you had cares. 

they arrested your mind.
they worked their own way into you,
battling for space against the passion that you had been longing to return to.

finally, you let go of the desire for that love.
you settled,
and that's where you went wrong.

(2009)