The nape of your neck is not a place of friendship
It’s funny where those lines fall, but still
The nape of your neck is an empty lot
In a neighborhood I cannot afford
One with too many coffee shops and only one church
But your hands are. Your fingers are places of friendship
In my hair between my fingers on my thigh,
Because my hairhandsthigh are places of friendship too,
What else could they be?
But places where lingering doesn’t mean anything
Are your eyes fair game? Can I think that they are beautiful?
I wonder if you know how lucky you are,
to just be able to look for as long as you want. At anything you want
Can you do that for me? Can you watch me?
I am working through the motions of something I’m not allowed to think
Because if this is a performance I can hold you
Legs folded into one another on your bed,
we are just an audience away from each others lips
Build us a context we can love in, because if someone sees us as girls and not spectacles
I don’t think my legs will work, and I cannot watch you run from me
Because your knees on the bus against mine
And the small of your back in the bathroom
And your voice when you’re falling asleep
Are all too far from friendship
Are all trespassing
And yet your lips are a place of friendship
As long as you are drunk or he is watching
And your chest is a place of friendship
When we sit in the basement and watch bad TV
So often what passes as friendship smells like cheap wine
And what doesn’t tastes like a mouthful of pennies





















