11.7.11

he is two people, and i love the one who smiles in english

even when i rage in the morning and rail in my mind, i have favourites. they are

birch and beech and aspen. they are flushed cheeks and jam. cobblestones and steeples, patchwork farmland. sausage, onions, two-man bands. duets and wooden flutes, stairwells that echo. chagall and the balkans, corduroys, and cardigans. leather sandals and light yellow, maroon and dark grey. white tea, lemonade, poppies, black-eyed susans. foxes and whales and sparrows, hills and green oceans. scarves and sundresses, steinbeck and safran foer, cummings, sexton, the appalachians and their scottish immigrants, kayaks, cherries, music that twangs and music that glides, postcards from street vendors and delivery-men on bicycles, bangs that lie flat and bangs that protrude, the magical way that the british pronounce jaguar, very thin pens, empty notebooks, grocery lists or sketches found on the ground, falconers, men who snore in the subway, bathing suits, cemeteries, grey cats and cats with orange stripes and cats with tuxedos, rag rugs, batman, hoops, rose gold, pearls, strong winds that moan, lace, atlantis, amelia earhart, diners that are always open, descriptions of people's ancestors, lisps, different coloured eyes, trains, beads, mixing bowls, quilts, little kids who peek under bathroom stalls, the cameras that are inside bodies during surgery, the middle crease of anything, sealing wax, letters with umlauts, fountains, bridges, naked germans, peaches, barrettes, floral patterns, ribbons, freckles, milkshakes, lime juice, disposable cameras, cowboys, the grand tetons, lingerie, empty brown bottles, throwing pennies on the ground, grammar, long foreign words, naming streets, maine, crusty bread, dusty streets that smell warm, stoops, shops that open their windows in the summer, midnight christmas eve services, candles, valentines, stories about angels, prophecies, used book stores, my grandma's porch, swings, tall tales and the people who tell them, the president's daughters, the state of the union, sagebrush duns, boulders, ivy, soccer cleats, gymnastic rings, lipstick, braids, brown eyes, men that babysit, tutors, interns, the polar bear plunge, titles tom hanks' whooping laugh, mild fevers, places with no sirens, melon vines, gardens, wells, the smell of cigarettes, the word timshel, all kinds of chairs, research, art therapy, dream interpretations, hula hoops, lollipops, marzipan, rolling pins, aprons that flatter, long hair, paper cranes, rearranging furniture, anastasia, men with mustaches, black squirrels, beating rugs, little boys who don't cry when they fall down, benches, mustard, wooden floors, porch swings, lemon curd, jocks who are friends with artists who are friends with scientists who are friends with teachers, northern lights, bears, zoos, roller coasters, mountains that meet plains, spray paint, babies that nap, carpenters, masks, afghans, umbrellas, ellis island and people who stay in their own countries, ginger beer, heartbeats, collarbones, soaps that smell like cinnamon, baby oil, airplanes, giraffes, farmers, public school teachers, musicals, pioneers, inventions, patents, frozen lakes, the sound of cars in the rain, children who eat all their dinner, breezes, creeks, calloused feet, strapless rompers that don't fall down, friendly strays, fountain pens, houses where shoes are left at the door, putting things in boxes, packing, some extended families, cities that sleep and cities that don't, villagers, farriers, raccoon tails, kisses, karaoke, dressing up, free samples, interviews, bumps on writing fingers, impermanence, roots, and museums.

i'd pay to be anywhere but home. mund. mund-kauen. tomaten-mund.
er isst wie ein kamel. er fuettert.
tomaten mund.

i'm paying to watch tomatoes die.
anything but the comforts of my own phone. cellophane is crackling round my brain.
he has a benign face, broad and creased. the one across the table has two duffel bags. he's sprawling out longer and longer like a lawn or a lectures. soon his leg will be high in my lap.

i know it's less about paths and more about how you walk, but i'm so young.