differences

you offer: Fork or Knife?
i want chopsticks.
your eyebrows come in at the center of your forehead.  asymmetric face, barely perceptive, but a scar on your chin creates the difference.  i can see you don't understand my need to fumble, eat slowly, enjoy one or two noodles while you use your shovel to gather colors, flavors, textures in your mouth all at once.
you are done and on to the next thing, dropping your plate in the sink next to coffee mugs stained with used tea leaves.
i stay.
i pick up yellow.  i pick up green.  i pick up slippery extensions with bits of egg sticking to them, licking the sauce from my fingers.  the pages i turn gain a slight discoloration on the edge from bits i miss.
your spice level was 3- my eyes burned when i sit thigh to thigh with you and i got too close.  mine is 1- barely perceptible for you, but plenty for my pale skin eyes hair.
maybe that's why i eat with chopsticks.
i want to notice everything everything EVery thing.
you take it all in one go quickly judgements made.
do we balance?
or do we collide?

Bicycle

i have been confined, for too long, in that box.
while convenience often dictates that i use it, the atmosphere stays the same the dirt under my feet is added to not taken away from and i suffocate from air that only recirculates on itself.

today, however, oh i am happy.

i leave the box behind. breathe real air, sharp on the tips of my ears and biting my fingers awake.  i am slower, for certain, but i observe.  the shadows left by buildings on the face of someone waiting for a bus.  the fresh bread being stacked by the window by a girl with tattoos up and down her arms.  her hair is half red half black held up with a bright orange kerchief, and when she smiles at me i see a small ring in her lip.  i keep going, whistling and free and open and soaring.  my legs are burning with elevation and tingling when i finally dismount.

how can i go back?
how can i be claustrophobic again?

i switch four wheels for two, and i am more alive.

morning

the sun is coming up earlier.  my alarm clock beams on my face, and i have no choice but to greet the day.  i roll over and see you next to me.  you seem blissfully unaware that it's time to get up.
instead of answering a chorus for food, i look closely at you.
all your hair is black, black, and more black.  eyelashes, beard stubble, eyebrows, chest hair, and so so much on your head.  i look closer, and see your eye twitching underneath your eyelid.  where is your mind?  Neverland?  Wonderland?
can you feel me, blue eyes searching where brown eyes can't question back?
i enjoy this one sided conversation as i miss your hand sliding on my white, white leg.

i'll let you sleep more, unwinding from pale-green soft sheets to put on coffee.
as i crawl over you, i make sure to kiss the curved bone at the top of your cheek.

are you dreaming of me now?

Permanent

isn't that what we're looking for?

isn't that what everyone wants?

every

one.

all.

at one time i thought he was my permanent one.  holding hands and deep hazel eyes and waiting when i was sitting in a hospital bed getting a needle put in my arm to test my blood.  love pumping from my heart, turning the tv to a different channel when it hurt to laugh.

was i that wrong?  why did i waver?  what changed?

my writing back then was loopy and full and happy, racing across the pages.  

how did it change?

now i look at dark brown eyes, and instead of letting myself drown i hold back.  you waver when i don't look at you as i tie in.  is my hesitance going to cause us to fall too?

i want something permanent.  something to hold me to the ground.  i don't trust love quite yet.  it cut the string to my kite once, and i'm scared of floating away again.  crashing to the ground.  tangled and the colors fading from red to pink to white.

maybe i really don't know what i want.