fife, homecoming.

when you're away from me i'll make sure to send you

dirty pictures of me

and bad poetry via e-mail as

lord knows i'll have miss you terribly

and the scent of your skin and the sink of my teeth into the length of your thigh, the

stretch of your chest, the sensation of my fingers entangling the hairs on your belly...

oh shit. this is not helping things.

and

when you get back from michigan

and the ice and rain has grayed your skin and

thinned you out . . . and leaned your eyes

to the point where i barely recognize you anymore

we'll

sit down for coffee,

we'll exchange theories on architecture for

the old buildings you've missed,

that have been torn down,

that are being rebuilt

with plexiglass

instead of brick.

baby-boy

when we find ourselves having nothing left in common

and we're hanging by a thread

and our lives are not the same

and we are completely different people--