Chronicals of young love in a science lab fever.

For Nicholas

1.
with braces sewn to my teeth,
braces demanding
conventional smile

we find a shadow behind
a building, and kiss with tongue
until parents bark horns

2.
a dull summer sun,
raw against unsolved body,
shining onto exploring fingers.
children, never exposed this way

two babies wearing laboratory coats
examining the intricate
self against another self
how deliberate our bodies have been made

3.
Infusion of life without a manual
we bruised each other slightly,
trying to fit
trying to mold
into thoughtful desires, too far from us

4.
in and out of the classroom, in the hall
crimson glares in every year,
remembering our surrender, in pride and failure

5.
breaking rules
for nothing more than a satisfied hormone,
to be projected as love.

I see you at Honey Farms,
you ask,

“Do you know where I can find some pot?”

5.
Shots of Absolut, scolding
the throat of freshmen
I’ve always loved you spilled without grace
from your lips, naked like our bodies
as vomit spewed into a neat pile of bile
on your floor, absolute
guilt

6.
Jackie finds me at my cash register
spits a seed of hate into the mouth
that kissed her boyfriend

seed to a tree, bitter roots.
Both unsuspecting to how unripe
some fruit can really taste,
years later

7.
11:27pm
gracious greens fill the car
as we spill around corners,
dipped in hesitation.

we make conversation
out of dry smoke bubbles,
sporadic pastime turned permanent.

8.
Mushrooms eat, mushroom retreat
to the films of the gut,
soon bloom like bread baking
in a purple oven stomach

I see: flowers bud in darkness
charcoal pink to yellow
you age to 45, withering
beside a fire, leaves weave
into a 1970’s maple carpet
leading to hell

9.
I the therapist: you the patient
I the patient: you the therapist

Why did I take it, I say, huddled against the wall.
You turn to me, you’ll be okay.

How long will this last, you plead,
eyes bulging as mind bulges
Just an anxiety attack, I say.

10.
A letter written early, in the stillness of fog,
my hand scratching pleas.
I tuck it into your suitcase as parents fidget,
we waved goodbye to normalcy,
you sign off to New Hampshire,
(precisely when I become obsessed
with Real Connection.)

11.
Bodies evolving as monkeys do,
the primitive tales remind us
we are animals.

Growing into the puzzle
our pieces barely fit, edges soggy,
a bruised peach from wear.

Experience: made us wiser to teach,
made us accessible
Drugs: made us science
made us jagged in essence,
like a shining piece of broken
ornament glass still shines
with an idea of original splendor,
still so stunning while it exists
in pieces.