we stood on a chicago rooftop and aimed high.

we shot the sun and watched it fall.

a sad and holy glow streaming off of every single

northern facade in the city made by men made by god.

one hundred thousand steps from here to there,

a thousand miles,

a thousand faces,

a million trees.

I returned to where they laid joseph's body.

the coat from his father now the ground,

every thread a tree

and shining colors fit for a prince

among twelve brothers.

what's your favorite thing about the holy scriptures?

they asked in unison as foreign tongues

and foreign feet beat the air and,

and,

ground above a flooded plaster ceiling.

that they are holy. and that you are asking.

and what about words you'll never say?

which ones are those?

_____________, _____, _______,

and, __________.

I will never say these words.

It's snowing in indiana in my sleep

and the city that never sleeps

is still never sleeping

and the band that played the final note

as you and i walked

through those

cardboard trees and linen art gallery cemetaries.

the friends that we never made

are back in their beds (CA and IL, respectively)

and you are around at movie theaters

and at bonfires

and on the back porches

of friends that we never made together

and at home

and at the other end of a telephone line

with someone else

and I will be home next week

or in three months

or tomorrow

or some day after that one.

Somewhere between Harvard metal bands and Israel, I realized I've disarmed this all before.




Just not all at once.





There was the one who controlled sections of the midwest via blackberry. I'd skip geometry to run across the parking lot, jump in his car and head down state to chew on food I can't even pronounce. It was fun to play grown up while you ignored me and chatted business and I wondered if you ever checked your e-mail in bed. I tried to keep you young and you tried to make things serious. I always declined. I am not the type to be a solid investment. Back to my reaI world, felt like a little kid who’s just won Monopoly. It’s a smile like that.



There is one who was out to save the world. The heart of Ghandi and a face like a movie star. We'd lay in bed talking about microfinance in Africa, kissing when our hearts got too heavy. We'd draw strategies on each other's skin about how if American's would put the money they do towards ice cream to poverty, the world would be saved and we could just lay in bed all day. When that got old, we'd put a blanket on the grass and talk about physics. We'd turn the string theory into cat's cradle before passing out in each other's arms. Back from outer space, I felt like Mother Theresa with a cool prom date. It's a smile like that.




There was one who drinks whiskey in churches. He called me from a hotel in LA to play me new guitar riff. He makes me walk around the city in sunglasses and we take pictures climbing poles. We jump on the bed with music too loud and our drinks stain the ceiling. I collapse and he plays the drums on my side talking about New York, Seattle, and Germany. We build a fort, but never sleep. You have a concert in Chicago and I am in the real world again. I wake up and have ice cream for breakfast. It’s a smile like that.



Then last night I met you. My favorite thing about us is the fact that we both made the same $20,000 mistake at age 18. Only you don't know that about me yet. You don't know much about me yet, not many do. You want me to stop laughing so much and I want you to learn how to jump on the bed, but we both want to make sure every heart never ever has to break alone. That's what really matters. And the fact that you stand up when I walk in the room.

I give you the smile that says I think you are perfect, but you can't quite figure that out because I don't throw myself at you due to your last name. I don't care I don't care I don't care. Today I woke up in the real world and I am still spinning.

Please, remember me, happily,
by the rosebush laughing
with bruises on my chin, the time when
we counted every black car passing
your house beneath the hill, and up until
someone caught us in the kitchen
with maps, a mountain range, a piggy bank
a vision too removed to mention

But please remember me, fondly,
i heard from someone you're still pretty
and then they went on to say that the pearly gates
have such eloquent graffiti
like: “we'll meet again” and “fuck the man”
and “tell my mother not to worry”
and angels with their great handshakes
but always done in such a hurry

and please remember me, at Halloween
making fools of all the neighbors
our faces painted white, by midnight
we'd forgotten one another
and when the morning came I was ashamed
only now it seems so silly
that season left the world and then returned
and now you're lit up by the city

so please remember me, mistakenly
in the window of the tallest tower
call, then pass us by, but much too high
to see the empty road at happy hour
gleam and resonate just like the gates
around the Holy Kingdom
with words like: “lost and found” and “don't look down”
and “someone save temptation”

and please remember me, as in the dream
we had as rug-burned babies
among the fallen trees and fast asleep
beside the lions and the ladies
that called you what you like and even might
give a gift for your behavior:
a fleeting chance to see a trapeze-
swinger high as any savior

but please remember me, my misery
and how it lost me all i wanted
those dogs that love the rain, and chasin' trains
the colored birds above there runnin'
in circles round the well, and where it spells
on the wall behind St. Peter
so bright on cinder gray in spray paint:
“who the hell can see forever?”

and please remember me, seldomly
in the car behind the carnival
my hand between your knees, you turn from me
and said the trapeze act was wonderful
but never meant to last, the clowns that passed
saw me just come up with anger
when it filled with circus dogs, the parking lot
had an element of danger

so please remember me, finally
and all my uphill clawing
my dear, but if i make the pearly gates
i’ll do my best to make a drawing
of God and Lucifer, a boy and girl
an angel kissin’ on a sinner
a monkey and a man, a marching band
all around the frightened trapeze-swinger

cocaine flame in my bloodstream, sold my coat when i hit spokane, bought myself a hard pack of cigarettes in the early morning rain. lately my hands they don't feel like mine, my eyes been stung with dust and blind, held you in my arms one time lost you just the same. jolene, i ain't about to go straight, it's too late. i found myself face down in a ditch, booze in my hair, blood in my lips. a picture of you holding a picture of me in the pocket of my blue jeans. still don't know what love means. been so long since I seen your face or felt a part of this human race. i've been living out of this here suitcase for way too long. a man needs something he can hold onto. a nine pound hammer or a woman like you either one of them things will do. jolene i ain't about to go straight. it's too late. i found myself face down in a ditch booze in my hair blood on my lips a picture of you holding a picture of me in the pocket of my blue jeans still don't know what love means.


still don't know what love means.