Partly Cloudy Read online

  The threads of your pants frayed, dragging little pieces

  Of string. All the way home,

  My head hung down,

  Like the button on a thread.

  Open House

  When Mom said, “Come with me,”

  I sighed and thought, Not again.

  On Sunday afternoons

  Mom likes to see how others live,

  Their furniture and kitchens,

  And, I, a good son, get into the car.

  I'm glad I did—

  A girl with her mother

  Walked down the steps

  As we climbed up.

  We passed,

  And I could see her

  See me. There were roses

  In the flower bed,

  Stocks and freesia.

  But she was a different kind of flower,

  With pink buds beneath her blouse.

  Vegan for Your Love

  No chicken or chops,

  No burgers or chow mein with pork,

  No milk shakes thick as wet cement,

  No buttered bread or my favorite beef jerky.

  “I'm hardly hungry at all,” I say,

  And smooth the blanket where we lay in nature,

  Ants with their antennae up and feeling

  For handouts. I've lost four pounds

  In two weeks, and by the end of the month,

  I'm going to be like that red ant—

  Waist so thin, I'm a vegan begging

  For sprouts and, oh please, a single blade of grass.

  A Long Weekend Without You

  The wind blows west,

  Hauling clouds in the spring weather.

  I lie on a recliner in the yard

  And wait for your face to take shape

  Among those clouds. There, now I see you:

  Nose and forehead,

  The chin I once touched

  And made myself shiver.

  Love is like weather, cold or hot,

  Nothing between. I watch

  The clouds, the shadows like

  A warning. I touch my face.

  Is it rain from you, or a tear

  From inside me?

  So Much Alike

  If only we hadn't moved away,

  I would still know you,

  Girl in the third row,

  Your blouse buttoned all the way up.

  I liked you. Didn't you know?

  Because of you I wore a shirt with buttons,

  Polished my shoes, and combed my hair,

  Even went to church because I heard you did.

  I almost cried

  On that field trip to the aquarium

  When I saw two penguins

  With their little wings touching.

  They had each other

  And now I have no one, just arms at my sides,

  Now and then flapping,

  Now what, now what?

  Fall Dance

  When I promised to take you

  To the fall dance,

  You rose on tiptoes

  To kiss me on the chin.

  You cooed, “We'll waltz.”

  I smiled, swallowed,

  And kicked through leaves,

  Worried. What was

  A waltz? I learned when

  My mom swept me

  Through the living room,

  Her hand in my hand,

  My other on her waist.

  When the phone rang,

  She handed me a

  Broom, and said, “Practice.”

  So I held the thinnest girl ever,

  My flat-chested partner,

  And swished and swayed,

  Dipped and bowed.

  On the night of

  The fall dance, Mom used

  That broom to sweep me

  From the house.

  Country Music

  I wish I could write you the saddest country song

  About loneliness, horses, a pretty girl

  Broken up by failed love. But what would I do with it?

  I can't sing, or play guitar.

  I love you so much. A melody runs through

  My mind, but I'm not sure if it's mine.

  Country music makes you sad.

  I'm going to put on my granddad's cowboy hat,

  And lick a pencil and write a song on an envelope.

  But first I'm going to eat a peach

  And think of you as a peach, something really sweet.

  I'm going to get my dog to howl as I write,

  There was this pretty girl, hanging tears on a line...

  Beautiful Trouble

  They say you have a tattoo of a butterfly

  On your thigh, but how will I know?

  That you can uncurl cigarette smoke at will,

  That you can cuss in six languages,

  That your last boyfriend is using a whole box

  Of Kleenex to wipe away his river of tears.

  These are rumors, just rumors.

  But I can see. You're dressed in beautiful trouble,

  The skirt that swings and the low-cut blouse,

  And I may as well mention the red smile,

  The ring on your loveliest toe,

  And the glance in a compact mirror,

  Seeing me watch you.

  When you raise your hand in class,

  Your bracelets ring. You seldom get the answer

  Right, but who cares!

  My dad, a deacon in the church, warns,

  “Watch out for girls who cause trouble.”

  Indeed, I watch every day as you swing

  Down the hallways, the little roll of muscle

  In your calf, and somewhere up higher,

  The rumor of a butterfly.

  Busted

  What was it, three weeks ago?

  I went to your house

  And there, in the living room,

  A robot vacuum cleaner

  Whirled away, searching for dirt.

  The noisy gadget was working around

  The fireplace, choking on cinders,

  Ashes, and burnt matchsticks.

  Then it turned to me

  And started sucking at my shoelaces.

  Was it pulling away my dirt?

  I had to grin. Only then

  I sat you on the couch

  And told you, “Yeah, I had a girlfriend

  But we're over.” But I was busted.

  The robot vacuum cleaner,

  Sensing a filthy lie—I hadn't

  Yet really broken up with my girlfriend—

  Chased me from your super-clean house.

  Tree Bark

  In front of campus we meet

  And you whisper, “Dad doesn't like you.”

  I push my fingers underneath the bark,

  Peel it like a scab. Does the tree hurt?

  Does the sunlight press its warmth into the skin?

  Does an ant visit this pain?

  I push my fingernails into my skin,

  And the bite hurts. What sun will heal me?

  Simple Me

  For you, beauty is natural,

  Even as you push away from the cafeteria table

  And carry your plate to the conveyor belt.

  I hurry behind you, wobbly as the chair

  You pushed away, and look at your plate.

  I see that you left a few peas,

  Those plump little guys jumping on the plate,

  Almost doing a samba. I watch the plate

  Disappear behind a curtain and think,

  Lucky fork touched your lips.

  A Certain Weakness

  I'm 6'l", weigh 180, mostly muscle,

  And hero of a 43–42 overtime game last week.

  Did you see it? I scored the last basket

  And was thrown into the air—and caught!

  I rode to the locker room on the roar

  Of victory. I'm strong, you see.

  But if you were to bump into me in the cafeteria,
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  You, who are 5'3", slight as a swan,

  My legs would buckle.

  My friends would have to carry me away.

  It's exhausting thinking of you,

  And in this game of love, I don't think I can score.

  The Koi at the Museum Pond

  A large golden koi surfaced,

  Wise as an old man with a Fu Manchu beard.

  I thought, He's going to tell me something,

  Something about us.

  He lowered his head,

  And a ripple spread on the greenish water.

  I stared at the water reflecting the rolling clouds.

  The day will pass, a week,

  A month ... I told myself that if I stir

  The surface with the tip of my shoe

  The ancient and wise koi will surface,

  Even larger. When he opens his mouth,

  He'll speak our names.

  The Birds and the Bees

  First Dad hitched

  Up his pants, unbuckled

  His belt because dinner

  Was spaghetti, and lowered

  Himself into his recliner.

  He ran his hand over

  His face, then looked at

  His fingernails—spaghetti sauce.

  “Let me tell you about girls,”

  Dad began, and then said,

  “Well, they're usually shorter

  Than us guys.” I was thinking

  Of Sarah from biology,

  How she came up

  To my shoulder,

  And the scalpel in her hand—

  The poor frog didn't blink

  When she ran a slice

  Up its belly.

  He then said, “They cry

  Sometimes, and they like shoes.”

  Where was Dad going?

  “Girls are smarter,” he added,

  “But we sort of know

  More practical things”—

  He pointed to the

  Ceiling and I knew what

  He meant—the cooler on the roof

  I oiled last weekend.

  “Girls are emotional,” he started,

  But then leveled his gaze

  On the television.

  “What the heck!”

  Dad crowed. “It's snowy.”

  I had to climb to

  The roof to get the picture

  Right for him, Dad

  Yelling, “Left, turn it left,

  No right, right I said!”

  I never learned about

  The birds and the bees

  Until later.

  Boy Artist

  I think of you miles away.

  We're on vacation, surf and sun,

  And campfires under icy stars.

  You're lovely. I draw hearts in the sand,

  And the wind nudges them away.

  That's okay. It's practice.

  With the beach as my canvas, I draw hearts,

  And the tide at four in the afternoon

  Laps at the edges, dissolves our initials.

  But our love will never wash away.

  I'll be back in two days,

  Sand under my fingernails,

  Some in my ears from laying my head

  On the beach and thinking of you.

  Rumors

  They say love makes you speechless,

  That it takes your breath away,

  And right now, as you round

  The corner in the hallway,

  I, who was telling a friend about the F chord

  On a guitar, become speechless.

  You pass, and I double over,

  Like when, in first grade, Marc Steinberg

  Hit me in the stomach

  And took my breath away.

  But this strike, this beauty of yours,

  Is another kind of hurt.

  Faces

  With a pen, I drew little faces

  On your fingertips, ten in all,

  And you said, “You love me, huh?”

  They were happy faces.

  You showed them to your

  Friend, who laughed,

  Clapped, and said,

  “Wow, you're so lucky, girl.”

  That was between third

  And fourth period,

  And by fifth period—

  I don't know how

  This happened—I fell

  In love with this other

  Girl, a musician who

  Plays first violin in orchestra.

  You and I met after school.

  I kicked leaves, bit

  My upper and lower lip

  A hundred times,

  And then confessed,

  “You know Rebecca...”

  You made a face, cried.

  You raised your hands

  And wiggled the fingertips

  At me—the ink had run.

  Each little face

  Was sobbing, dropping

  Little black tears.

  Rationale

  Already tall at thirteen, she walks

  In platform shoes. I can't help

  But think like a guy.

  We could use a center—

  We're 0–3 at the start of the season,

  And so ugly on the court

  We could use beauty.

  A Lesson for Us

  I rode over on my bike

  And you hopped onto the bar,

  Giggled when I took the grassy hill

  Down your lawn to the park.

  We lay on the grass,

  Half in, half out of shadows

  And smiled sleepily at the sky.

  I kissed your knuckles

  And you kissed me

  Near my mouth,

  Then on my mouth.

  We then watched a couple

  From a wedding party

  Pushing a car. “See,” I said,

  “See how much love costs?”

  The flowers in the woman's hair

  Scattered like confetti

  And with each push from

  The back fender,

  Anger sparked

  From her knife-sharp heels.

  Eternal Love

  What's the meaning of time?

  You said, “I'll be with you forever.”

  We lasted two weeks, one afternoon,

  A half hour, a few minutes,

  A sweep of seconds on the last day

  Of the solstice. This sorrow

  You gave me remains.

  I could paw at the calendar of hurt,

  And you'll be there

  Like radium, like uranium,

  Whatever element lasts forever.

  But who cares about me?

  Some joker said, “Love is eternal

  As long as it lasts.”

  I feel him.

  Danger

  The storm dropped six feet of snow,

  And with it, an electrical wire in front of our house.

  It snaps and moves like a snake.

  When will the police arrive?

  Or a worker who will set safety cones in the road?

  Isn't it a hazard, a hot wire in snow?

  School is closed. The house is dark.

  I'm thinking of you huddled near a candle.

  If I knew you were in trouble,

  I would take a shovel and shovel my way

  To your house, six blocks away,

  And risk live wires hissing like snakes.

  Love, I know, can be hazardous to my health.

  Time

  Tired of the same cats in the Dumpster,

  Tired of blaring radios, of gangsters with their grills,

  We rode one bike to the park,

  Where we bought a single bottle of water

  And lay on the spongy grass. I told you

  Three times that I loved you,

  And you said, “Okay, write it on my shoulder.”