Joe

I miss you Joe

I miss your quarter-black
brooding eyes
your serpentine body
your teenage heartthrob lips
and the smell of your worn out
punk clothes
you wore like a second skin
musky and stained
with the archaeology
of benders
and house shows
and days and nights
spent curled up like a cat
on hand me down beds
with purple and blue snakes
bulging under your translucent flesh
cartoons playing in the background
on a small scratchy tv set

I miss your tongue
and your teeth
and talking for 5 hours on the phone
And I miss holding your hand
lying in your lanky arms
and feeling your wild heart
beating on my back

I miss the Portland free pours
you clutching my side
your knuckles purple
and shrivelled over your bones
from the crisp autumn air
cigarette burn scars
like bullet wound divets
lungs straining
like the wings of a dying moth
fallen leaves
crunching under our backs

I miss wandering around at night
for endless hours
along laced together streets
and into sleeping gardens

Wandering down the hallway
on the upper floor of a mansion
a strange woman
lying in her bed
cocooned inside layers of blankets
like a giant insect
street lamps illuminating
her hollowed face
she welcomes us
but we leave
and wander back onto the street

We wander down Granville street
with a 2/4 of fire in your canvas bag
we walk like shadows
in the evening summer sun

I miss dreaming next to you
wrapping out feet together
like the roots of a bonsai tree
our legs covered
in little red polka dots
the carpet alive
with the dancing
of thousands of tiny legs
jumping madly to nowhere

--
I hope you were reincarnated
as a Samurai Pizza Cat