Love These Days

I’m jealous of teen stars

and those who were loved – early on.

Didn’t we all used to dream of stars, counting them like sheep

chronologies of the terrible things that matter.

The other night I saw myself in the mirror plump with baby fat and she asked me about

Love these days.

How did she know to ask? – this all must have started in some other tavern

jealous then of fairy tales and porcelain dolls, and other things that forget to grow.

We spoke about life Like it was a fantastical thing.

You know, I replied,

I’ve been in this

— stay up mood.

Even that was empty.

in far off dreamscapes in the waybackwhen.

I left myself out of the head count forsaking my own stardom.

So I am also jealous of sheep. The ones we remember to count.

I learned to betray myself for restful nights.

counting, twinkles, and mystical things.

Today I count lovers and their bruises and their bites.

Stay up mood, I said, going out, in all the wrong places with wrong people doing all of those things I promised her I wouldn’t.

In love these days I’m like a punch buggy

—spot, love, punch, fuck, punch, fuck keep driving.

They say there’s no way you could love me you fuck me like your enemy

in love these days

I thought I would’ve grown up by now

instead, I explained– all I did was stay up. failing to regenerate.

I’ve started to like the smell of fire burning but at least we’re warm.

And the sound of airplanes and us nestled in for the apocalypse.

So I am also jealous of steel anything that can take heat and forget to melt.

In love these days—

I just search for what I missed waybackwhen at dawn, and at dusk

those few tries over over over again

I wanted to remind her to love the baby fat but couldn’t tell her how

I tried to explain what she’s worth

these days I’ve forgotten the rules of multiplication

how anything times zero comes out the same these days, I say, I subtracted myself from the equation.

I don’t know love since the person I’ve become I’m still waiting to see if we are lovable

She and I, me and I stare at each other in a trick mirror

In her eyes are a trillion versions of me all of those I could have become should I have picked differently,

gone left instead of right where I always end up falling prey to disguises

all of us blind in love these days.

I’m jealous of those desensitized to these beautiful terrible things that matter

She and I wash our false face and try to like it without makeup the wine red blush of pain and half-forgotten wisdom.

An awareness that I, she and I are happening to the world – as you are happening to me

One day, I say, you will long so much for these boring evenings when we don’t know where to go.

I told myself — doe eyed in the mirror

Forget love these days my dear, You are eternal.