“Back then”

back then
my biggest fear
was that the birds would keep singing out of tune,
that I would run out of notebooks to invent in,
that I’d have to give back the Calvin and Hobbes
I stole from you
back then, my heart was small and strong
back then the weeds and trees
feared me
I was their king!
but the flowers, they loved me:
like their wild selves, I was proud and happy and
back then
I found god in the low canopy out back
and lost him at the edge of our lot
back then
I was lookout, and third fastest in the grade
I ran on ice
and sometime later
back then came to an end.

“your smell”

I always thought

that I loved her

scent,

turns out

my face pressed

against her body

made me smell

my nose.

“Summer in Silivri”

this place
smells like the sewage they
dump into the sea
looks like the rust
on the gates
feels like the
dust everywhere on the ground
screams like the
stray dogs in town
ages like the
plums that have fallen
so this place
was beautiful in the seventies
and tacky after that
and tired after that
but
this limping place
is my home
and these friends
smoke too much
and don’t play enough soccer
and curse each time
they exhale (smoke)
and don’t study
but make fun
and make merry
and make me quiet
when I know I’m not
but who else would
I love and
dance with by the beach?
who else would call me
American?
who else would feel proud
for me?
who else would try to set me up
with the best girl?

but that time
ended years ago
and I can’t go back because
I didn’t go back.