someone's every day...

how was today?

today?

today i was here.

i was really here
and i noticed
and was noticed

you were there in your chair
a chair you later told me wasn't yours
but someone else's
and it didn't fit you

i was there at that time
because her chair was not working
and i was going to help the older woman
get that chair in the van

so we are sitting there
breathing in the dirty, chilled, exhaust air
waiting for the same thing
and i was a little high from the thought of the smile i got

and people were walking by
looking at you
but continuing on
and i thought to myself

are you supposed to be like that?
is your body supposed to be leaning over like that?
you didn't say a word and didn't ask for help
though i doubt you could see me.

i walked into your visual plane
and asked if you needed help

and you eagerly said yes.

so i touched you
your strong shoulders
and your tied feet

i moved you back upright
and you thanked me
and i was worried that it would happen again.

i wanted to fix you
and that chair that did not belong to you.

so i touched you again and made sure you were better
and i smiled

and just acknowledged you


something no one else was willing to do.

i looked back at the girl i was waiting with
and though she can't talk
she gave me the thumbs up and smiled

and i felt full.

it's the being a part of someone's every day
that made mine.

i was there to help them out
and i met you along the way.

it's things like this that remind me why i'm here in the first place.

i'm waiting for the gifts like these...

inaugural rides we share...

cold air
wind
and
darkness

they remind me of you

heavy
and deep breathing
make me recall certain things

i heard they're moving your bike
to where it belongs-

home.

girl,
you are everywhere tonight.

in the smiles
and smells
and reminders.

i felt you all over me.

recalling our kisses
in the booths
at the tables

watching your ass
as you turned around
and reached for things

things that fed me
and things that fed them

more
than our heavy,
wayward
gestures
needed.

you filled us with
the drug we wanted
and craved
and reached for.

i'm peddling fast
and
i'm peddling furious
and thinking of how quickly things come to pass

the winter
and the coffee shops
and your presence.

breathe in
and try to hold it

i feel the cars spin passed me
and look at every other biker
in the dark
and wonder how anyone could have claimed to have seen you
on your final ride

to the river.

how?
because as hard as i tried
i couldn't see them
or you.

all i could see was road
and light
and sky
and darkness

but the habit of feeling you
and seeing you in the small of things
is nothing any discrepancy could hold.

though you are by yourself
i am with you
and i can feel
what you loved

and what you were in love with

on the wind
and the heat
and the sweat
of working the pedal.

breathe in hard
exhale hard

i am now home..

where you now rest...

soft.boy.

sometimes i have to remind myself that i have a right to feel this way.

jealous.
insecure..
un -satisfied.

i am so rarely any of the above
but when i'm feeling it
i'm feeling it.

where are you JJ?

i want pictures
i want proof?

i want to know that you are together with her
so i have no room to wonder
and wander
and call.

you were one of the few
who entered
but did not leave.

sweaty and
racing
and wayward
we were.

i remember the wet spot in my bed where you lay-
so foreign to me.
it had only happened once before with him.

we were young and i knew better than him
but this time
you knew better than me.

where are you?

i search for you
and your girlfriend's page shows no sign of you.

a break up?
a heart break?

you so wanted a relationship.
an everlasting.
to share with your family.

we were close.

minus the boy and girl part.

i loved you
but was confused
and scared of the parts that made us different.

you were softer
than anything i've touched before.

confused by your gender
you told me your secrets of bending the norm
and i loved it.

but when it came to either you or her
i chose her.

and didn't really give you a chance.

i regret that.

because what we shared

was immense

and littered
by your lack of attention
and ability to focus.

it was the weed.
it was the pollution between us.

your cock
to my
cunt.


too different
to take.

i still think of you,
boy i almost loved.

and miss you...

girls in bars..and driveways...

from the top you can see the distance
and if you punch a little more
maybe you will see more weakness than you bargained for

i can recognize the feelings of awkwardness and i'm not sure how to bridge the distance of familiar
and digging a little deeper..

i recognize, in the echo that some may ask,
now whose gonna come find you?

there's a theme to the questions i ask.
that is my stamp.
my quest
and repeat plead.

it's times like these that i remember the people in my past and i think of the lightness that they now hold in my eyes
and i recognize the everlasting love i have for them..


my silver town girl (heather c)
who i confessed that i was in love with without looking her in the eye.

i wanted so much to touch her tear drops
as she meandered her way through lost faith
and broken promises.

i wanted so much for her to look me in they eye
but she was bound to turn away
so i didn't even try to tell her my truth that way..

tell me heather,

did you ever listen to the song?

angel falling in the skyline?

i tried to remind you that you were bound to come around..

your silence tells me that you have.
and i am happy for you..
may the days of shiek visiting the bar we frequented be laid to rest...




part two.


why should i stay here?
why should i stay.

i'd be crazy to not follow
follow where you lead.

yeah you-
those (irish) eyes
they tell me.

they tell me
we have been in better places.

the air around us reminds me
that things change
for the better

you started to notice

when once you could not see.

i see you now,
standing there in your resolve and defeat

and bitterness

convincing yourself to move on.

to prove to yourself

that better things existed
despite you being heel deep in the shit that makes
mud look pretty.

you spoke
and somehow were heard by these deafened ears.

i heard you
and i responded
and today we are in love
a year and a half later.

i will never forget witnessing your ephiphany in your driveway-
cars parked in the garage..

you said.
'yeah i will call you'
we are gonna do this!
yeah, we are gonna do this!'

and you were only talking about a dog walk..

but somehow i think you had me fooled.
a dog walk it seemed

but a life was more of what you were convinced of.

baby, despite who's right or wrong
you found your way to me
and that's all i care about.

i've got mad love for you
the unrelentless kind, too.

you won't go far without me.
this i know...

...

i want you to read this...

i want you to see this
my words
my truth

set abound for the eyes of the familiar
and unfamiliar

i've displayed myself
like a dish
something to be observed
judged,
and taken in

consumed

with a flavor-
too salty
too bland

too mismatched
and unrefined.

i am

all of the above

and i want you
to read this

these words.

yes,

you.

i want.

we can shine

even if the light is not upon us.

and we can beg the light to find us
and
even if it goes out
and we can still reach
for the warmth
when it's gone

and asleep.

i am perpetually in the state of searching
and seeking.

though at times
i am content being found..
more often than not.

i write
and i don't care.
what
you

think.

of me
and my

place...



i am used to being judged
for who i am
and who i am not

was not
could not-

ever could be.

and in those miserable and fleetingly free moments

i love what i am.

and what i am not.

i have a thousand examples of who i never want to be..

married to him

or her


or the idea of it


i am shaking free

of the caste system

where my eyes

and skin

and body

dictate who i can be

and who i will never be..

i won't lie that i think about it often

and look for an out.

thank god for my straight tongue in the language

and my lack of willingness to take on my native tongue.

i am so often asked if i want to return home,

to Colombia..

and the answer is always the same..

No.

i say.

No.

i don't have anything to go back to
but judgement
and a tongue that
is not my own.

i have become a hybrid

between similarity

and nothingness.

i cannot be claimed

nor designated
as a player for any team..


sure,
i have tendencies

but no one knows what my heart is saying

or what my language is
when i'm silent.

i agreed long ago
to be misunderstood

and i'd say i've done a good job perpetuating that vote.

i've been lonely at times

but still no one can label me

as anything but me.


and my lover-

she has limits too.

her skin prohibits her

and her past to enter.

but she -
she is aware
and is not ashamed.

as far as i'll ever know.


maybe i ought to listen to her

and learn from her..

as complex

and improbable as that may be...

the only road i've been down...

i have guilt over the honesty i share

i am not sure if it's about taking care to not offend or dishevel anyone's feelings that have stood stagnant to reality for decades
or if it's the latent rule to be seen and not heard

regardless
i blow regard
and quite frankly
care
to the wind
while i spit my truth
to the world
who had no problem in
displacing and
somehow overlooking
my reality..

so here you are, mother fuckers
here is my truth...

let it gag you the way
your cock has gagged me
in my innocence
and eagerness to please.

here are my words uncensored
and honest...

i let the words cleanse my mind

and in them i sing-
despite the fact that no one is singing to me, now...

black car talk...

i am fucking happy
i can't complain about a thing.

my life has the mis- direction it always has had.

i love the simplicity of the nothingness
that i love to chase
and embrace
and keep at the base of my being.

if i didn't have new beginnings to wake up to
each day
and the absence of corrected memory that most people are born with
i would be miserable.


she says, after i ask her-
i worry about and wonder if you are as driven as i am-
and then
i realize
that you are driven but by different things as i am..

i look at her, after i've asked the million dollar question and say..
i am in love with simplicity-
my ego needs no competition
i have nothing to prove, as you do.

i am content in the every day.
i am content in the sinister
and regularity of the 24 hour cessation of our lives.

i clock and lock the moments
and sing the words of others to a tune
and i remember, without remembering,
every
word of their life at the moment they recorded the song of their life...
ok so it was all in the 80's..

we all have to have a talent of some sort
and from some sort of era....