not to mention

the difference between gargoyles & grotesques
has only to do with how they handle
release. last night you told me
you think often about the weight of clouds.
we ran to the highest point in the world
to watch light make golden barnacles
of the heavens. there's a big boat
parked over our heads & it doesn't have
the energy to leave harbor. i empathize.
i want nothing but floating. i love 
an uncalled for rain. christmas lights 
on the train station eaves. trying to take pictures
of a castle church. the gargoyles all over
thinking about their futures & hoping
to be trees in a next incarnation. 
there's enough air but just enough. sometimes geese
follow me home & ask if i have any letterhead.
deer are dissapointed that i couldn't handle
winter. turned into an ice egg & 
slept nestled in my own tall tales.
i lie to myself so often the lies take up space.
closets full. like almost-deceased shoes.
like thumb tacs in a bowl. picture frames
are the difference between twenty-four 
& twenty-five years old. i want to get married
tomorrow. it would be so easy. my heart 
is already resting inside the neccesary 
black velvet box. if you're reading
this poem know that it's more about you
than you might think. not mention that
when i love someone i don't just love them
i want be their water. something to submerge in
or drift on the surface. maybe the boat is
nothing but a dream. row row row your boat
is a philosphy really. i'm not dreaming though.
ghosts show up on heat sensors. evidence 
is evidence. the aliens saw us kissing
& made a single note "gay ???" 
yes. gay. on the train ride 
there were specific instructions to not
stick your hands out the windows 
& i did it anyway. a waterfall is not always
a waterfall. can just be a slow pour.
how can i tell you about the canopic
i'm planting in your yard? they're celebratory 
don't worry. all my organs are free-stone fruit.
i couldn't ask for anything better 
& so i ask for fiberglass or orchestra
or a scrap book made of actual scraps.
strands of hair & pony tail holders
& flecks of pollen. i would be the grotesque though.
not the gargoyle. when ran comes it doesn't spill
through me. it washes. drenches. i said 
"what if the clouds came down all at once?"
& i meant "that's how i felt when 
you opened my front door & the cool March air
spilled around you." 

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