Into the Thicket

You spoke close enough for me to taste your words  

and your skin and my hands

and inaudible statements

and unheard questions and ramblings and

 non-linear sentences, with changed-subjects to

un-read novels and      cold winters and         vacant classrooms.

We tasted the dirt,

and your shoulders got burned by the moon.        We spoke with tongues  in the grass

and birds on our fingers.

You twisted like a rag doll and you kept the bottle.

            There was peace in the big        emptiness      of           us.

            There was this beautiful                      space               when
                                       
                                         your breasts
               pushed against 

                                                                                                                 my chest.

And, when your hair fell against my face

I swear I saw stars

fading.

When I finally had the courage, and you backed                   away, and we felt the warped

wood of houses and

smelt the chipping paint of tree-houses,

We saw buildings and ware-houses as                        empty              as our hands when we

touched                       each                             other.


We watched movies we hated like Burried and movies we loved like Submarine      

and drank Slurpees

and danced barefoot in parking lots,

we hiked and tattooed our names into a maple tree,

we drank hot chocolate and chai tea latte's,

                                        you laid on top of me and I breathed you in,

we played with remote control helicopters

and we took pictures of           everything,

we laid on frozen lakes and walked with each other,

we laid by creeks and you let me hold you while you cried,

we listened to music and snuck into abandoned buildings.

                                 I woke at 1 PM after a fourteen hour sleep,

I ate an orange and chocolate milk, put the dogs in the car and headed

up the canyon.

I hiked around for hours, and couldn't stop hearing your voice,

The colours began to dull, and I couldn't help but answer.

What are you looking for Gene?

-Our tree

Oh Gene, it won't bring me back.

-I know, but, It doesn't have to.

Do you remember this spot?

-Of course I do. You found that slice of tree trunk, and I threw it. You were so mad at me.

Do you know where you are?

-No

How are you going to find your way out?

-I'll figure it out.

Finding that tree isn't that important.
                  -But it is

Why?

-I need to know it was real, I need to know that what I felt that day was real, that what I feel right now is real.

Gene, did you ever love me?

-I think I still do.

I tried to keep my breath as

even as even as

possible as my

boots touched the

asphalt and my

dogs climbed into the car.

and I looked back at

                        hundreds of thousands of

Maples

                        knowing that                           ONE

of them

                        had our names

                                                tattooed on it’s

T R U N K