I like it
When you go to a movie with me
And you come out sparking and fizzing
About how the part with the helicopters was so awesome
And why didn’t they DEVELOP the love interest
And I feel
When I’m watching your curls fly in front of your face
And your hands dart about in the air
Like I’d watched one of the most dynamic movies in cinema
When in reality, the part with the flower on the windowsill confused me
And the armrest made my fingers itch
And I fell asleep on you 2/3 in
You were so enthralled I wasn’t sure if you noticed.

There
Is that okay?
I was just on the train and I had the urge to write a love poem
I don’t know why
I don’t read poetry, except the kind that gets scrawled on bathroom stalls
And I don’t think that counts
Because then I’m sort of a captive audience
I don’t write poetry
Not since my first grade acrostic about my dog
It went
D is for digger
O is for oozing sores on his paws if you walk him in the snow
G is for great friend!
It got a B-
Then my dog died of Pneumonia
But enough about that

I like it
When I come home
And you’re sitting the on the couch
In some sweater I could fit inside too
If I really tried
And you hold up some bizarre species of fruit, with spines or hairs
That I bought on impulse from an outdoor market
To be interesting, worldly
But was never brave enough to try
And you ask: Can I have it?
Well yes! You can!
That was better, I think
Or was it?
God, what have I gotten myself into?
I would stop now
But I think the others around me would sense the unfinish(ed)ness of it
And the man in the suit standing across from me
Would think he wouldn’t hire me based on work ethic
And the shriveled, blue curled lady
In the knit cap
Across from me
Will cluck her tongue
And she’ll never tell me she wished her grandson
Was as sweet as I am

I like how your
Pinkfreckled soft skin
Pushes into mine
As our lips touch under the flickering light in
My apartment
And…

Okay
I’m not going to write about all that intimate stuff
Cuz the teen in the muddy coat to my back left
Is craning his neck to see what I’m writing
And I don’t want to share a single thing about you
Even words, even my words
If I did, it woouldn’t be with nosy strangers on the train

But rest assured
I like that too

I like each day of us
The pizzabreathkisssmush of Friday night
The farawaymorningcoffestare of Sunday morning
I like the cheapheelwobble of nights out
And the bindercliphandgrasp of when you’re dragging me
Somewhere I’d never liked before
I need these things I think
I’d go into a state without them, a sort of withdrawal
Not too bad though, don’t worry
Just headaches and what’s the word? Snappiness?
No.Irritability like I had last year
When I tried to give up coffee
You’re like coffee to me
And here’s my stop