Now that he’s back
in your apartment
you can
go on
pretending
he does the dishes.
Grass them fall
and soon their
hair
will all fall out
and you’ll
be glad
you
bought that salve
& be glad.
Why this love
so present
insists on such
a persistent
trouble?
This Christmas
will be
a Christmas
again.
True, yes
friends make you
more friendly
when you see them.
And enemies
more so
when you don’t.
We sit and draw
our futures like
stars, and you
say to me
“I can draw
like the wind”
and I say
I can’t draw
at all.
The problem with
porn is when
it does nothing
for you and just
looks like
pictures of
your family, stuff
you keep
in a drawer, un-
opened.
Promises
like pansies.
I give these gifts
not because I
can, but because
I can.
I imagine you
Greek like
beefcake
but I’m not
hungry and you’re
not Greek.
You’re Italian
and I ate
lasagna
for dinner tonight.
Like most things
we get softer
with age.
So sleep
on me
like your pillow
& I’ll try
not to rot
by the time
you wake up.
I’ll try, I’ll
try.
The pain,
a pleasure.
In the dark
I forget all
faces, and that’s
not sad
unless you see
it that way.
Holding your
dick in your hand,
seeing a freedom
in your grip.
And you tighten
tighter.
And don’t let go.
The half deco-
rated apartments
(where we were
half-men)
were never the
best places
to place our youth.
But they were
the places
we had, what
our parents
paid for, wanting
nothing but the
best for us, nothing
but the best.
Steps in time,
quickly, time,
little games
of it, dancing.
I can’t see you
when you’re awake
or when
you’re sleeping
or just
living your life.
Only when
you’re online, and
that’s just
a red, or yellow,
dot on a screen.
I blow
the ashes away
like a New York
accent.
You might be
surprised
by the fact
there were
Jewish gladiators.
They were very much
desired.
Head against
a tree,
spitting,
and getting
hard too.
Distance sounds
like privileged
mornings.
For some reason
the idea of sex
only interests
me as
an idea,
a thing
to think about.
A fundamentally decent and nice man
What this bed
says
is:
“move to the right,
I’m bending here.”
And days go by
uncounted, and
unremarked upon.
But not there:
That’s the place
I want to hold on to.