Here I am plopped for you.
Weezing and moaning,
an old rocking wise person on the porch of your visions.
I don’t mind the smells you make for me, the haphazard messes and ruptures –
I wouldn’t have promised to hold you as a lover if I didn’t want a little mistreatment.
I breathe like a smoker, clean lungs are too much to hope for,
I prefer it grimy like that,
I am meant to be your door mat,
When campus works its desolation under your collar, come in.
Welcome yourself and wipe feet upon entrance:
My floorboards are between you and this land so you can respite from it.
Close the blinds.
I’m your tree house, protect me as a backyard fort,
pretend the parents won’t notice, hope they don’t come peeking when you’re naughty.
I am as safe as there is trust amongst you;
You are as loved as you love.
Make something I’ll be proud of.
When you have found within each other what will build you,
Turn up the music,
the blasting,
I thump thump
with your dancing,
I roll to your handsome
I groove to your laughter
Your fabulous disasters
Your sexual fiascos
Come early mornings,
The calm and the storming
I’ll cradle your tangled bodies
Slip your loneliness through my cracks.
Release yourselves!
Don’t hold back.
Spring 2009.
Kris Gebhard, PhD 