The Future Smells Like Half-Smoked Cigars: three stories

One.

On a completely full airplane

I dreamt I saw you undressed

Sitting on an unfamiliar bed

In a room with floral wallpaper

Which is something I suppose I can't tell you now

And ever because of the rules

But I swear I had

Loose bolts and spare change

Rolling around my stomach, hitting all the tender spots

I felt robotic romantic attraction

Like I should write blockbuster movie scripts

And kiss them closed with green lipstick

With red chapped lips underneath

Because I'm just goose bumps 

Ghosting for your attention

Two.

I'll meet you where your Chicago meets my Chicago.

I'll meet you where glass meets limestone

And starts to crumble under the weight of every stretch of skin

That gets reflected back at us on the sidewalk.

Church steeples rising out of pharmacy drive-thru windows

If superglue could fix all the flimsy things we said

When it was too hot to sleep with our twin-sized sheets

Knotted around our knees

I would buy all the bottles from the corner store

With their going out of business sale

Even our drunk thoughts would be discounted 25%

I’ll make you this deal

In a wood paneled room at the end of the world

Say something and I’ll say something back

Somehow we managed to ruin every song

With white noise fan blades blurring on

Three.

I checked the wind chill against your birthdate seeing as

I'm fixated on the idea of chunks of brain tissue freezing

And what memories am I losing to frozen cells?

The middle name of my dead dog

Because I gave my dog a middle name

Plucking flowers out of tablescapes

Shifting shamelessly in orange plastic chairs

In a room in a business park in the bad part of town

You get that close just to feel

Shoulder blades under electric skin

I am an authority on nothing except for being kissed hard

Against painted over cinderblock walls