NINETEEN
Up for anything, pliable
nothing out of bounds
dress you up, dress you down
undress you in public
Far from home, no witnesses
this is space exploration
boundary breaking
daddy’s long arm can’t reach you here
Sidewalk swagger dissolves
to breathless whisper, begging
for release, for tongues
your mouth a light socket.
BRUNCH
This is just brunch, not sex. Not like two nights ago when nothing but a sheen of sweat separated us. We're being good boys, divided by this canyon of a table, but I can't keep my eyes off your lips that so readily met mine, explored at will. Silverware and a barricade of condiments restrain us, so even reaching to touch your hand feels like transgression. As we eat the all-day breakfast, the promise of neverending eggs, I wonder if we’ll ever meet again. We fucked too soon, my old Achilles heel tripping me up, but you insist it was a mutual lack of control. How to erase and rewind, take back the night we went too far, so that this date is full of anticipation, palpable electricity, barely touched food, our parting kiss prelude, not postscript.
NOSTALGIA
I always loved you best at a distance
voice a faint radio signal
an image lost in television snow
The idea of you
perfect and acquiescing
sculpted, blonde and grinning
Then you momentarily resurface
tangible, flabby and older
one wrong word and then another
Now you live in another time zone
always behind me
stay in the west.
__________________________________________________________________
Collin Kelley is the author of the American Library Association-honored poetry collection Render (2013, Sibling Rivalry Press) and Better To Travel, which will be reissued by Poetry Atlanta Press in 2015. Sibling Rivalry Press is also the publisher of his Venus Trilogy of novels Conquering Venus, Remain In Light and the forthcoming Leaving Paris. For more information, visit www.collinkelley.com.