April 8/30
I wish I could smell that kind of loyalty
like the 9 ounces of racing fuel evaporating through the neck of a beer bottle
the heat tells me exactly when I am to blame
the first time
it is a lesson
the second time
it is a reminder
the third time
it is a punishment
the fourth time
is special
it marks the first time
you considered never having friends again
the fourth time you buried their secrets in the backyard
lest you become the kind of believer
that measures the golden rule
sometimes I overdrive my bravery
and end up as a firefighter
down the stairwell into hell
trying to find a mental elevator
to calm my melting hands
so the whole time
I sat atop brooklyn
throwing you a party
and I know, you’re no longer a rooftop sailor
you’re the balloon traveling type
throwing friends out your basket if you ever feel weighed down
and spitting hot air to get yourself high
if I had a parachute ready
does it mean I was asking for it?
I know you’re no promise of safety
you’re the warping leather helmet atop my head
and the scalding water dripping down my hood
the white v-neck beneath it all
I trusted in your skin
but hotter than the 121 burning in your throat that night
I still pulled myself out
the fire was extinguished
and every ash falling from my shoulder
looked like a little hot air balloon
