Where I Live.

You are beautiful again,
time is just before the first fire,
I am chopping wood,
and we are talking about love.
you tell me
time is an unfaithful lover,
and laugh at my struggle
in splitting the wood.

I live in a house
made out of the redwoods and
purple dreams,
all my lonely days are
neatly organized by the window,
next to my books
and flowers.

You are mixing the fire
and asking me questions
like, if color gray feels sad,
& if gold gets tired of all the attention
it gets. I’m laying on back
on the turquoise rug
my parents gave me
and feeling my skin getting warmer.

Your voice is
gently caressing my head,
and I tell you I want to build a house
in your eyes,
in their chaos,
and when you stare at me,
and I see a green field
under a blue sky.

you say we should take a bath,
and wash ourselves
from all the weight we carry.
You filled the tub,
we throw away our names,
and let the time flow.

we dip our toes first,
and then slip into kindness,
you are beautiful,
& I live in your eyes.

Washington, D.C.

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