Girls in Cardigans

• 2010-06-15

  

  My books, your marginalia, our undoing. With your upward inflection lingering in the eaves of my sanctuaries, I burned down every hostile church.

• 2010-06-11

  

  Our arguments were brief, nasty and geopolitical. You could overlook my whiskers in the basin, but not pragmatic economics. All those funny ways I meant the world to you.

• 2010-06-08

  

  They liked your little notes of appreciation: handwritten and folded in half, yellow and blue. I liked the way you smoked your cigarettes, the names you called me, and the way you smacked me around.

• 2010-06-03

  

  The stippling on your upper lip, dark nubs more visible than vellus in their tiny pillories, should not have been enough. But it was. Because I am a man, and because that is all I am.

• 2010-06-02

  

  Every fierce coupling is lodged in my mind like a diamond splinter. Each facet has us replete or panting: our thighs slick and burning, one want subsiding and another coming.

• 2010-05-21

  

  Your third nipple looked nothing like the others.

• 2010-04-23

  

  Your matted, dreadful hair intimated a laissez-faire sexuality and a gaiain idealism. But as we chased out all darkness between us, preconceptions fell away, leaving only your lack of personal hygiene.

• 2010-03-10

  

  You got me drunk and dragged me to that dingy bash in Brooklyn. I
  leaned into the wall as you reeled into the void, motes threading weird
  progressions in your wake.

• 2010-03-03

  

  Your password was sugarplum: my third guess.

• 2010-02-27

  

  It was as though we’d always known each other. And then to our friends: this is the one I told you about. A contradistinction, a marking out: I place you before all others. This, to two years thence; snubbing one another in a supermarket, frantic that our eyes should avert.