arrival

and i wonder how i got to here.

smile. whether for me, or him or anyone else

in particular, i don't know anymore.

not now. 

and i do not question it.

because regardless of whether or not i like it,

this city is beautiful,

the shallow curve of the mountains

in the distance as the traffic spans

the boulevards beside me.

for i inhabit (this) now, 

and my body moves, one foot

after another, the stretch and the pull

of my muscles in the morning,

the curve of my stomach as my hands

wrap around the width of my hips

in photos, and the mirror

and the odd moments where i am simply

aware of just being.

i have barely begun to explore the start

of my arrival (at the spaces between my ribs,

the line from my neck to the top 

of my shoulders, the curve of my jaw, 

the crease of my eyelids while i smile, 

hands on my hips, body curving over

in laughter while i dig my fingers

into my belt loops in an attempt to stay steady).

and in the end,

i am happy regardless 

of how i got here.

from here

i think we're alive,
even beneath the sky
of a city like this,
the street lights yellow
to the point of illness,
the sirens a wail
echoing down the length of the highway
as we wait to cross
while the ambulance roars past.
but i still have your hand in mine
as we wander down the road, sidestep
the man begging on the corner,
breathe through the cloud of pot in the air
from the couple passing by
and then turn back
before we approach the part of downtown
that barely feels safe during the day,
let alone at night.
i am not from here though,
yet it is even as it is reaching the point where i forget,
i am still startled upon occasion.
i can now feel the print of the grid along my skin
as i walk throughout the city, duck
the overhanging branches from the yards
beside me and jaywalk from where
the sidewalks end and the bike lane begins,
with only a small thought of a prayer
not to be hit in traffic
on my way to meet you.
for we are always walking now,
the sound of one footfall and then
another, the descent of the temperature
into the night, my hand in yours
and your lips on mine as you kiss me goodnight
in the early hours of the morning.
there are still cars driving by as we part,
the street lights still blinking yellow in the dark,
my body humming slowly to the chill in the air
as i make my way home.
for eventually you get used to a city like this.

live wire

it's normally between
the hours of 10 and 3 am
when i can feel the pulse of the city
a live wire across my skin
while i stare out into the darkness
not yet at the point where i miss the stars
since there are so many lights
burning brightly tonight

and i'm finding it harder and harder
to breathe
the air still beneath my fingers
as i raise my arms
rake my fingers through my hair in frustration
against the empty promises
of the night

cause i would like for it to fill me
blacken smoke across my teeth
a whisper of a sweat along
the back of my neck
and the slow pressure of your fingers
digging into my arms with each bite
and grip as you drag me towards you

for there is no way to fill this
puncture this desire
scratch the itch of desperate touch
free from shallow winds
while the city shines coldly
electric from the third floor
and on the other side of my window

i have nobody here to ask
to touch me