what i've been meaning to say

i have not been totally honest
or rather i've been telling truths that are irrelevant
hiding the meat
hyping the condiments
waving my hands
to distract from my eyes
all 'look over there!' when really
it's all here inside.

i keep writing love songs
and leaving out the names
hoping the 'you' and the 'me' are obvious;
but pronouns are just loose change,
just shorthand,
just quicksand
where we lose first our particular shoes
then slowly our legs, our hips, our thighs
and even that's just me
resorting to my instinct to generalize
when what i'm really trying to do
is describe exactly you
to unscrew a pen cap
and freehand a road map
of the curve of your nose
the first time i really saw it:

that new year's eve, at the obligatory party.

you on the sofa, me on a cushion
in the middle of the room of my own private ocean
playing that game with the sharks
in the carpet
where if i touched a toe down
they would tear me to bits
autumn had waned into winter
but i was already springtime
all curved lines and anxiety
wondering if a girl like you could see
the trees growing wild
inside a guy like me
who played badly at cool
loved madly but foolishly silent and slow
who brushed his teeth twice before
daring to phone you to ask if you'd be there
so i wouldn't have to be there alone.

and yet there i was
knees drawn up to my chest
hoping you would suggest
i come over and join you
hoping you'd yawn and rest
your head on my lap
so i could stroke your hair
at the stroke of midnight,
hoping for once
i could start the year right
right beside you and your body
close enough to whisper your name
so nobody would hear it but you,
hoping i could privatize our public lives
could get inside your head
and your levis, hoping i
could dive into you. imagine
my surprise when you
read my mind and smiled
threw down a cushion that bridged the miles
of open sea around me
it astounded me then
as it still does now
that you could see the future
where i just saw tea leaves
that you said yes before i knew
what question i was asking.

so i take back every song i have written,
redact every poem with your name not yet in it
and swear on my heart
and the forests that grow there
to renounce all my pronouns
and celebrate the sound
of your name:

Cathy.