telefon

trying to stay busy

(like trying to stay calm)

i am trying to resist

the urge to call you

again for fear of

what you will think of me

and the stratified earthen

textures of your voice

peal an ancient melody

beautiful and strange

yet profoundly familiar

you laugh as i call you

unapologetic and i

scrape as much of the

sweetness off of my

voice as i can

(just as it sounds in

my dreams)

you exhibit your

trademark unabashéd candor

as you always have

and i shiver

and my heart races

as i realize

(my god!)

i could sit here and listen

to you

forever

and you can be a carnivore

and you can be a catholic

and you can dislike my music

(or my poetry)

and you can show my pictures

to your gay friend

just please

don’t stop talking

and please

don’t ask me to

stop listening

if i could have just a

piece of you to

chew up and devour and

compose into verses

i would truly be a poet

as it is

i am just a dreamer—

the worst kind.