round girl laughing

I remember you there
It was Florida
It was April
You were sprawled on the hard floor in your underwear
you were squealing in pain
like the rabbits my cat used to drag home, injured but still fighting
and in the enormous pools of your frightened eyes
I saw my own fear reflected
as you kicked the wall with bare feet and pleaded with me
"What am I going to do?"

That question was bigger than the both of us
It required more answer than those blue saucers of your eyes
could ever hold
I didn't know what I was going to do, either
Sitting on the balcony of that shitty hotel in Ft. Lauderdale
listening to Beautiful "7 Years" on my duct-taped headphones over and over
trying to pull myself in on the thread of Jon's song
and tired is a man

You looked at me with hatred and anger
deeper than anyone had ever looked at me before

And I still loved you.

Years later you told me how that night was the beginning of an aching hole
that years of forgiveness could never fill

I remember us on the velvet couch at Venus De Milo
It was January midnight red, and the music and the laughter
Everyone smiled at us -- we were ridiculously beautiful
Our legs were not our own but we made it home --
you and I made it home.
We always have.
The ice sometimes is longer, deeper, more slippery
but always, eventually, we find our feet
even after our bottoms are bruised from repeated flops on the pavement.

The perfect berry falls.

You send me your mix tapes and you send me flowers
you send me your humble wisdom
And now you send me your pictures of the ocean
Where I found my land legs
and that pavement we both called home
If I said "Beinecke, naked" you'd know the weight of that statement

And just as easily as we could recall the flawless acoustics of that square,
I can remember the commercial carpet of that cheap hotel
the rugburn from pained flailing
your frightened eyes too much like mine
more blue, less self-important

You tell me now how I've shaped you
how my stars have made you
my wrist, your back
our ears
and I see you looking over my Bay
with shadows curling across your impossibly beautiful face
and I know we have survived that hotel room
you on foot, and me on horseback

We've gotten to the place
where you give me your combat boots
and I give you my bootlegs
(did I tell you when you wore my boots, well it makes me cry...)
and between the two of us we could light this night on fire
our candles are always lit at both ends.

We could speak of survival
that no one else could understand
and you know why my sentences all begin with "and"
and you know sometimes why I can't sleep at night
because summer fades
and there's a tiny black weight on a rope round my leg
so throw me into the water

Your pictures of the ocean
your words
your music
and handprints in sand
handprints on history
and our songs we can sing together
knowing the words by heart

You've always said that I inspired you
that somehow my sinkful of dirty dishes and a half-read novel
equaled freedom
well, now I watch the block that has held me dissolve,
the more postcards you send
the more photographs you take
of the sand, your pen, our history
our future
I give you my music and you give me your words

Suddenly you're holding the rope for me
pulling back
leaning against that heavy line
salvaging my mind
lifting me, sodden, from the storm

You are once again saving my life
by living your own

We can plant these seeds
and everything will come up daisies
because we have a house made of cards
in our inverted world.

You on that carpet in pain
and me on that balcony, un-beautiful
is further away from us
than D.C. and Virginia could ever be

These are only words
but they are all I've got tonight
These words, and those stars.

And those stars.