Devil Tree

written May, 2008

Afraid of what will happen if I get far. If I get near?

Like a child with a marshmallow

I wanted one

Maybe two

Maybe three.

I don't like the taste of cheap chocolate

Or punctuation.  Punctuation tasted like care

Punctuation tasted like "good night"

Or just night

"im going to bed, so should you"

"well sometimes it's good to be wild"

"are you thinking what im thinking"

"no problem, i enjoy a night with a beautiful girl"

But none of these words were spoken. Then what were they, thoughts?

false?  Recordings of something so frail and shattering as the container 

that housed them?

I saved them. Never actually bothering to talk to you.

A few times.

But the words were choppy.

And punctuated with laughter. 

And then they were smooth. As smooth as my body slicing through the night.  Swirling, cutting. Jerky, secret, madly visible. As smooth as the red satin that just barely kept me real. As smooth as my white shirt billowing down.

You hugged me. In your big black sweatshirt. In my big pink sweatshirt. It was all big. The first time. Happy birthday.  Happy birthday

delete delete delete delete delete!!!!!