I considered agreeing with you on a certain memory uncompromised by the two of us
for certain; it would have inspired something out of us - the numb.

So obviously unbalanced and excessive

I squeezed two whole lemons, added 8 tablespoons of sugar and put it in a gallon of water.

I called it lemonade

You called it sour

Or my sun-lit-salt-smelling-sex

You said was "a way to wake up"


Or the joke you explained

That I said, "I got it-but it's just not funny"


I wish I could have inspired a poet in you

But you only said, "can you put your shoes away?"




My shoes in the living room

Planted, for you to trip over

So that I can climb you

Bite into your skin

Find some poetry.

the german

he

drinks cutty sark

watches the discovery channel

eats the left over lasagna i made with

kraft american cheese (that no one else will touch)

he takes me fishing every week still

even though i am too old to talk to him sweetly

and too young to talk you him with respect

its been years since he quit smoking but

he smells of smoke and whiskey and hearty smiles

he tells me what a good cook i am

and that my hair looks nice today

he hands me condoms

and begs me not to have sex yet

he loves my mother the way i won't see again

until my brother meets his wife



i am eighteen

seeing my father for the last time



he is sitting on the couch

drinking cutty sark and

eating the left over lasagna i made with

kraft american cheese (that no one else will touch)


he says, "you're a good cook"

and i forget to say,


i love you.