November 24, 2015

Things I Live(d) For (When I Was 20)

I live for sunrises down south and late nights under city lights.
For the smell of french fries in the air conditioning.

I live for mornings where I'm driving home to the sun rise
and school buses pass me by
and passers by are making a routine stop to their local drive thru.

I live for the mornings where I spread awful news in a pleasant way
throwing on my sweatshirt that encourages my surrounding
engaging in long phone calls with a relative, my best friend,
and spicy coffee with an elegant design in a large glass mug.

I live for days where I lay down on my bed with a fan in my face
after being leaned over the couch burying my face in the air conditioner
cause its fucking hot outside and the air conditioning isn't doing enough.

I live for the days spent on the front room floor with gifts galore because Santa came the night before;
the five of us gather on to the couch and floor and wait our turn to hear our names called
while we shoo'd the dog out of the middle of the floor.
Oh how I miss that dog.

I live for nights where we visit the coffee shop
and we sit around for a bit not knowing what to talk about
but we end up kissing at your apartment anyways.

I live for other nights at the coffee shop when its winter and we're on a date
where we order our tea and coffee and we hold hands like lovers would
and we walk and sit by ourselves and you sing to me songs that you've written.

That's the only time I've lived for nights like those.

I live for the first day of school and those unpleasant ice-breakers
the time-wasters
the 'tell-us-something-interesting-about-yourself' even though I don't give a fuck-ers.
I live for first encounters with a new face
the before-you're-officially-together chase
that part of the relationship where you reach second base
and the end where they tell you "I need some space."

For the sight of skyline on I-94.
For the smell of crayons and wooden floor boards
perfectly tuned guitar chords
soft pretzels at the shopping mall
and Jack White's voice.

For the sounds of a skateboard hitting concrete
for busy feet on a city street
and excited gasps when we stepped foot into our unexpected suite.

I know this sounds cliche, but I live for another person's embrace
pulling into a front row parking space
receiving your first gift to me, a turquoise cigarette case
longing for the day I'll touch Leonardo DiCaprio's face.
I live for torso-pressing-into-the-lap-bar roller coaster drops
the season of tank tops
travel brochures from truck stops
drunk stumbles to the pizza shop
watching re-runs of Wife Swap
and collecting shot glasses from gift shops.

I live for nights of "real talk" with close friends
dreaming of studio apartments full of odds and ends
and writing a poem with an odd end.

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