holiday recipe

christmas cards, black lace
hallway conversations, couch talk and pillow talk and all you do is talk
buttoning childrens coats up to their neck
tuck it in, away, we teach them
early
to close themselves off to the cold
to anything
that may harm them
michael in my sweaters
lazily clinging to my hair
bed head and drawn out eyes
black mascara
socks on hardwood, nails snagged
paint in my fingernails, clogged pores and chapped skin
long winded bus rides in the dark and i never see daylight
anymore
figure out new ways to be desirable
take twenty five pictures of myself
and throw each one out
how is it that you see me
what version
is the one you love
that curls up to you at night
baby talks and heart tramples, screams and yells all ugly black
but silently, of course, silently
we take our bags to the panhandle
empty them
throw letters from rooftops
sundays are too cold and my mothers too thin
and i cant breathe, i cant breathe, i cant breathe
uneasy stomach all the time
checking store windows and holding handrails
ive gotten frail and my mind is so strong
its throbbing
keeping the city awake at night with its noise
somehow its your smile that calms me
your hand on my knee as we drive
and so im wild and restless and out of control
because its been miles and hours
some truck stop you got lost in along the way
pennies rolled in coffeshops
i have no shame anymore
buy records to listen to alone and then sell
im giving away easily now
these are
all
just
things
hats pile up on bookshelves
books pile up on nightstand, drowning, im drowning
i pile clothes on and pretend smiles
litter trash cans with gracious thank you's
let boys tuck my hair back
christmas lights and everyones
pink sick punched out dizzy
pulling at fabric on corners in the mission
and i make him think hes got it
its all yours
i give him that look i can give and send him
home hard
pushing pills and cooking turkey with an apron on
dancing around living rooms
my mother danced in as a teenager
wed be friends she says, we would have been friends then
twirling her ballerina
hands, first position, second, pliette
your much more graceful than me, she says
brass star cut out balls
theres nothing but reflection and we duck into
separate bathrooms and feel the wood
groan under us
the weight, the weight
its driving bay bridge at all hours and its always blue
blue green, blue grey, blue blue blue
pinching my arms
sucking on hard candy, fridays we talk about alcohol
and drugs
and sex
and i can barely get your name out on saturdays
when it rains
and we wake up
and everythings the same
bike riding until it burns
i cant sleep
so i read
and write and think up new ways to tell you
but its just black lace and fish food
three year olds and merry christmas
midnight mass and sloppy glances
that i hold onto for days
thinking
i could straighten that out if i had too