charge

Distracted by that which

Is not a distraction

Distracted by that which

Is the current

The flow beneath my skin

The charge between the empty space

That makes up who I am

Distracted from the distraction

By a distraction

Finish the thought

Finish the th

Fin

train

We’re standing on a packed commuter train. You’re sick, nausea rearing its head after an evening of standing, swaying, smiling, singing. The train settles into a gentle rocking rhythm; I wrap one long, lanky arm entirely around your waist, the other in a death grip on the metal railing above our heads, and you lock your body into place against mine. The florescent background of conversation fades as my focus centers on your hair against my chest, your rhythmic breathing, your steady intention, gingerly moving from one moment to the next. My hands have spent the night cautiously dodging your stomach, unable to acknowledge the truth growing inside, but now, feeling the rounded flesh through layers of cotton, I am acutely aware of the current coursing through my skin, reaching to engage this strange and precious intruder. Your hands clutch my skin with every jerk and jolt of the train; station stops shake you out of your reverie long enough to look up at me with bleary eyes and kiss me softly. High speeds turn to a gentle rocking, a hundred strangers sharing this giant metal crib.

Stream of consciousness

We bought a hotel in the same town

It didn’t make sense to go far, we had to get to Oakland the next morning

I paid for it out of my defense fund,

Savings kept since childhood, gaining interest

Without a second thought

And we kept the leftover food

Actually the whole goddamn meal, untouched

In the shitty hotel fridge

But I claimed one bed to myself, older-brother style

You two shared the other

Brothers on a hotel bed,

Haven’t we heard that somewhere before?

The words reconfigure

The meanings reflect

I turned the TV on low, no one was watching

We may have been talking

Or may have been silent

Basking in the afterglow of a lifelong argument

I remember thinking, how glad I am

That we can run away now

Like we never could then
We can run away and pretend