Kristen de Kline #214 And again ...

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I tried writing
about postcards and light
but you find a way in
was it those neon skies
we sheltered under
when you threw your arms
around me
or the shredding of your finger
while you finely
grated the Parmigiano
whose blood is this

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when I woke
I was saturated
in dreams
and tears   
you were screaming
in stereo:
take it back
I never meant it

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down at Lakeside
men scrub their Webers
a kid on a too-small bicycle
knocks me off track
women in pink tracksuits
sit on their decks
drinking white wine
from plastic tumblers
waving off those dumb flies
we can't get rid of

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you say I'm good at forgetting:
spinning limbs
flashing lights
catapulting wheels
all the things
that went wrong
in that bar
in the Cross
what did I know about love

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you recite poems
weighed down
by heavier hearts
by darker days
splashing drops of Grange
across my laptop
feeding me Instagram photos:
fresh lobster
rusted out car bodies
starched napkins
stained with merlot
how did we get here

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standing on that balcony
in the Honolulu hotel
you wrapped
your arms
around my torso
those arms, your
arms, they gnaw
their way
into every damn poem
I never meant it
what the hell am I on
whose blood is this
where does it end