I had just gotten my new car.
Shiny, silver exterior, soft smooth black inside.
You said you wanted to drive and I said no one drives this car but me
We took off down the road
You were speeding like crazy.
The hills seemed vertical
With crazy curves on them
You said they reminded you of my hair and I said it wasn’t the same at all.
There were gunshots and when I looked into the concrete village parking garage you were shooting someone I went to high school with.
I still don’t know why you did that. He didn’t do anything to you.

We were walking in the woods
Birds sang songs to us but you were singing your own song
Why did you tell me you love me? You have a girlfriend.
She’s my friend but you said it anyway.
There were bright green leaves
They were turning red at their tips
The air felt like fall
But the way you talked to me didn’t.
A dinosaur stomped over
And asked us for directions towards the marketplace.
We didn’t know but he sat down and enjoyed a cigarette with us.
It even made him cough.

Dance music.
The light looked golden around us
The light was golden because it wanted us to be golden
But it didn’t know we already were.
I was wearing something black and sparkly and pretty
My hair moved at the same time, like every piece was attached to every other piece.
You were wearing plaid pants
Your shoes were shiny
The music was inside of us
You spun me and held me backwards
You were going to kiss me I’m sure but I woke up first.

My ears were surprised by your tears on the phone
They fell through the phone line to make me understand how miserable you are.
Were.
Might be.
We talked about you
We talked about me
Your tears fell into my ears from the phone line
But the tissue I was trying to hand you wouldn’t fit through the wires
I jumped through the wires
Swam through the currents
To get to you
Because I’m still that fucking stupid.

-LBR

I landed on a hillside
Faint smell of burning smoke.
The sun on the green, the green on the sun.
Sit next to me.
That was not a question, it was a statement
I think you'll like the hillside too.

Sarah Morgan is so pretty
If she sat on the hillside you would next to her.
Sarah Morgan would never fester in burning smoke.
Her hair always catches the right angle of the wind.
Sarah Morgan would probably say the right things.
I promise you
I won't.
But Sarah Morgan would.
We all have a lot to learn from Sarah Morgan.

Hey you.
Yes. You.
I passed your thought today on my way home.
I don't think about you anymore.
Oh. Right.
The sloppy drunken Solo cup messages do.
Not me.
I'm bug free.

Where am I?
Besides right here.
These are not SHOES
they're sandals.
Thank you very much.

Hey
Hey you.
Brain.
Stop driving.
Neutral. Sunroof. Sound.
Lazy. Day time. Night time? Curved.

The tree.
You lied to me.
I will not forget but I tend to forgive.
I'm going to drop by later
Just to say hi.
I'm going to make sure you too have
forgiven me.
I hope we don't forget.
Your knee looks like a good pause button.

The fan blades. The breeze.
You were so intrigued.
Anxiety. Clammy hands.
StopStopStop
Go.
Go on.
I do not judge.
You get it.
The clothesline thinks so too.
The pins?
Well. Whatever.
No one cares what they think anyhow.

Little white shirt.
Who are your parents?
Come down to me.
I won't ask a question
But you will say yes.
Speak to me but not my face
Faces are always wrong.
Shine. Believe. Hold on

Green.
My favorite.
You.

-LBR

Walking in someone else’s shoes is hard work
It’s also difficult to remember to bring your own socks
Because
Wearing someone else’s shoes and no socks would be awful.
The day is ending
The sky is collapsing
And I’m looking into the sunset from the top of this hill.
I don’t really see anything
I’m a little homesick.

Flying is one of those things that would be awesome to try just once.
Sitting at a computer desk, he pulled paper carefully out of a slick metal drawer
And began a picture.
He used Sharpies
And colored it in with pencils and charcoal.
He sketched a moon that was looking to its left
Seeing what was happening on its right
The middle of the moon was dark
But there was hope for light on top.

Home.
Home is one of those places you can’t ever really forget about it.
Home is always stuck in your clothes, stuck in your throat
It is responsible for my shortness of breath sometimes.
There’s a band that talks about having wood and nails and putting hate out of its factory
What a sad job
When all you were trying to do
Was get enough money to head home.

When the days are long, the sky seems to fall
Collapse
When the day ends
Inverted.
One day I will spend an entire backwards
Sending the world to spin on its dry axis
They will say I am up to no good.

He called to her
From where he sat at his desk
But he didn’t say anything when she answered
He wanted to know where she had been
But the words were stuck deep in his throat.
Like home.

LBR

That night was strange.
Everything was wrong.
The four of us sat at the table, quiet, for once.
My father wasn’t yelling at me or my brother or my mother.
My mother wasn’t trying to make me eat a lot of vegetables.
I really hated salad back then.

My brother’s face looked like a stone wall
But I knew it was only because he wouldn’t cry in front of my father.
There was silence, but there was so much going on.
My father loves to talk to Jesus before we eat
Mostly because my mother is Jewish.
Usually it’s loud
And long
But that night his voice was barely above a whisper
And all he said was
Please bring the boys home safe.
Please.

My brother was trying so hard not to cry
I grabbed his fingers under the table so he would know I will never leave him alone.
Ever.

Some band said something about
Having wood and nails
And turning hate out of a factory
I didn’t hate anyone that day
My insides were squeezing each other trying to hold on
Trying not to die.

I had to be strong for my brother
Because he’ll never cry in front of my father.
For four days
All my father said as we sat around our table was
Please bring the boys home safe.
Please.

Those four days
Were empty.
I felt like a glass
That would never again be full
My brother
Stood next to me
Sat with me
We watched television together
But he wasn’t there
He was searching for Mike
He just wanted to find Mike
Because Mike helped him find David.
Himself.

I watched my brother
Fall.
Where was his girlfriend?
Being a whore.
Never have I wanted to hold his hand so much.
My brother was weak
I gave him all my strength
He needed me
And I will always be his home
Home is blood and blood is home
I will always be there.

-LBR

rockwood

Green grass, as fresh as a new tattoo, burning, stinging, peeling, white hot flavored pain flesh. Navy sky, coloring, laying down the backdrop, like the way he held me in bed. Cool, comfortable, cutting silence. The kind that cuts the bread, even without the knife. Where was I? Right, the green tattoo grass and navy snuggling sky. There is a place, only one like it in the owrld, where the two meet on a bridge of lights. The lights glow yellow, the way a honeycomb would during a bee's kegger. The white hot burn of tattoos into virgin skin, the kind that make your fingers grip tightly under the edge of your seat and your eyes stare so straight into ahead that all you can see is white hot fresh sting in the flesh. The navy sky meets that fresh green grass there on the bridge, meets it in the infectious waters who have no mind of their own, just wave following wave until they become embarrassed because they realized that rivers do not wave, they meander, and the waves shamefully drag themselves to shore, their weight doubled, reeking of distaste and dismay at their inability to be cool. My brain aches like a frozen brain only can and develops a new path to follow me down. I look at her, she looks at me, I put a lighter in her hand and she smiles and says okay. We proceed with our precise work and precisely pivot around until we are back at where we parked. The asphault looks aged, a graying sort of salt and pepper style hair, and expands to make our distance look further. Summer, you are my hometown.

-LBR