Tag Archives: making out

marvin gardens

the port, black and shimmering
what’s the difference between a pier and a dock?
something about our faces, familar
something about dimples
bikes, birds and blue ribbons
all that stuff we hate to love
IPAs half empty or half full
you made me forget how to dance
and tattoos
bodies as temples
a new tongue
and hands

marvin,
thank you for the memory

love, gardens

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someone who can step to this

I liked the way your slim hips swayed
back and forth with mine
I was careful not to say anything like “slim hips”
I played the shy girl
and it paid off
here, it’s become strange to kiss strangers
but tonight I got my flirt back
haulin’ out the rusty old smile
but it’s easy when you feel it
smiles are easy
when you’re singing in my ear
holding my hand
pushing me up against the car
brushing your moustache against mine
you tell me that you’re trouble,
like I don’t know touble
I’m more trouble than you could ever be
I say
’cause I know that you don’t even know the half of it
I think:
finally
someone that can step to this


nothing like riding a bike

I guess we’re going for it
you told me you didn’t realize
I was a serious and well-read person
I told you that I liked you
but that I should draw clearer boundaries
I don’t know if you have experience with this
but I do
it’s amazing how easily I can slide
back into this role
Sean said it was like riding a bike
you talked about the wonders that tunnels are
blasted through mountains
and the disppointment of coming out on the other side
I thought about how society tells you
that your words are worth more than mine
I brush your silver hair out of your eyes
and wonder why you’re in my bed
I hate the way you kiss
but the desire to kiss you is overwhelming 
later after you’re gone
I think, shit, I guess I’m going to need some condoms


pin holes into the sky, part 2.

give me one of your freckles
we’ll trade a tiny part of ourselves
I’ll do you and you do me
constellations of love over our bodies

Honey Bucket’s hands move just like Elena’s
and I remember warm nights
sleeping exausted
from talking and dancing and kissing

I’m pretty sure the girl at the counter at Middle Way
is something like eighteen years old
but she has a septum piercing, moustache and this demure style about her
all of which turns me into a fumbling dork when I order from her
especially today when she complimented my glasses

I told Meg I wasn’t fit to carry an anchor on my finger
but that’s not entirely true
I was born in a fishingtown
I know the quiet rocking of boats
and otters in the harbor
I know slippery seaweed dried on rocks
and red and purple starfish

if we are different people with each lover
if they each bring out varied qualities in us
and we relate to them in diverse ways
if in every relationship we are able to express unique parts of ourselves
and learn varying lessons each time we connect
then how on Earth does one go about considering
committing to a monogamous romantic relationship for the rest of their lives?

I can’t stand the way you chew your food
but I liked watching your fingers
wrapping thread around the needles
your teeth helping you hands make the knots
and the blunt side of the needle gently parting your moustache

the reason I call myself a queer dyke
has nothing to do with physical attraction
and everything to do with socialization and social construction
so stop fucking calling me a lesbian
and fuck me


pin holes into the sky

here there’s a certain kind of light just at dusk
blue stacked on white stacked on pink
the bare trees reach backlit black, upward

I don’t know what to say

a tattoo is made up of hundreds of single needle pricks
we’ve been going to fast
so we sit on the dirty carpet and poke intentionally
into each other
each point is an action
a map
I think of the one on my knee
jess you can
jess you are

in the black sky out the window
I watched the same star all the way back to Alaska
head full and heart heavy
knowing I’d forget the taste of Aden’s mouth
knowing I’d forget the clear color of the sky
what were you like as a kid?
did you get into trouble?
were you shy?

Alex said
that hummingbird and elephant hearts beat
the same number of times their whole lives
and that’s what relationships are like
is it true?
we all have a finite number of chances?

I told Beautiful she was the kind of girl I’d drop anything for
no matter where or who I was with
but I didn’t kiss her in the cabin in the woods underneath a stranger’s quilts
even though I wanted to
I remember vowing to become a musician just to sing a song for her

the people we leave our back doors unlocked for
planning trips and scheduling intimacy
climbing through each other’s windows
the friends we love, the friends we fuck
the love letters we’re writing behind our eyes when we talk
over coffee, over beers
great loves and perfect moments
slipping through our fingers and up into the sky
time and chance and distance
and sometimes working, sometimes not

I want your

cactus
spiral
f note
sunflowers
blue stars
four squares
puzzle pieces
crass
catfish
black spruce
anchor
cupcake
paw print
buoys
roses
airplane
black bird
heart
sinchi warmi
bambi
highbush cranberry
ship
clock
totoro
don’t worry
diamond
imaginary moon phases
stars
stars
stars

I’ve never told you that I love you
I told you too soon
I tell you all the time
I don’t tell you enough


a version of home

What did it feel like?

It was more than physical pleasure, and different than regular penetration. I felt out of my body and I felt more in my body than I ever have before. I thought about birth, death, coming. But I didn’t even want to come, I just didn’t want it to end. The movement, the pushing, the twisting, the wetness of the lube on your hands. A version of home. I trusted you completely, but I was still a little scared. “Almost” you told me later looking at your hands.

It wasn’t our first time, but it was our first time face to face. I thought about how nice my First Time might have been if it had been with you.

Your nose ring kept falling out and you let me ride you on top. It felt amazing to hold you so close to me. Your body hard and soft at once. I was reminded of how nice it can be to fuck your friends. We kissed hard and soft. You pinned me back and pulled me back into your arms, I felt drunk. You bit my shoulder too hard, but I secretly liked the mark it left. We fucked with the lights on and I noticed scars, tattoos I hadn’t seen before. You made faces you hadn’t shown me before. Pressing up against you in the secret attic, I didn’t tell you about a forgotten crush rekindling inside me. You seemed to have enough on your plate.

In the morning you made us coffee and waffles and we talked about family and racism and cultural appropriation and cats and coming out. Outside it was dreary and drippy and dark, but I felt hopeful despite it. You made me feel sexy and respected and interesting. I walked home with music and noticed buildings and windows I hadn’t before.

On Christmas day there was bright sun above the trees outside the window of the empty bus. I watched the store fronts and people pass as I rode through parts of Portland I’d never really been through before. Hiking up my sparkly tights walking from the bus stop, I thought about holding your hand. I fantasized about you riding up on your bike as I clapped my boots down Interstate. You’d flash me that intoxicating smile and I’d think about how good you look in eyeliner. And you’d be thinking what I’m thinking: that I’m leaving today and it’s our last chance to make out. And you’d just kiss me right there and we’d laugh all the way to the party.


let’s just be friends

is it weird that you have a photo labeled Tribe
that is of twenty-two white people posing?
yes, I decided, it is
you are twenty-two
I thought you were younger
hot, just electric
banging the drums with earnest angst
or love, or whatever
it didn’t matter
slipped you a note
and it worked!
it worked?
maybe it didn’t, but something did
don’t remember how your tongue moved in my mouth
but I remember it felt good, surprisingly
no, not queer, you said
bisexual
no, not that either
let’s just be friends!
sorry, sorry you said
all gorgeous and smile, sorry
impossibly white teeth, sorry
shimmering skin, perfect hair, Christian smile, sorry
your laugh rushes all the blood into my face
I laugh too
and let you go
oh well, I think
there’s plenty of other young, beautiful,  interesting,  stylish, hot dancing queers  in Anchorage to make out with
and then I laughed at my little joke