Too Intense

(An Excerpt)

By Breton Lalama

We can’t be together here?
Then let’s go
Anywhere Else 

I want to grow a garden with you 
I want to wake up before you and put the coffee on and 
Take the dog outside and pull fistfuls of tiny tomatoes from the morning mist 
like pearls  

I want to slice through their centers 
A galaxy of seeds spilling across the kitchen counter 
my fingers red with sweetness 

I want to peek behind the door  
my gaze a whisper I want to see the corner of your face 
Perfect 
Use my fingers to smooth your dreams  
Tomato seeds planted beneath a lover’s brow  
Yield laughter over breakfast 

You’re the only person I know 
who can lie to me and make my
heart fall out 

what did you have to sell
to buy that kind of talent 
and do you ever wish you’d kept it? 

do you ever sit alone at night in that
apartment thick with careful silence  
and mourn the loss of that thing? 

think what if 
what if i still had 
that now? 

We can’t be together now? 
Then let’s go 
Anytime Else 

 when the Uber is late  
you stand on the pavement  
in your socks 

 the night is good still it
isn’t june, yet 

i sit on the top step
playing boggle
til your
bottom lip drips
proposition over my collarbones
and i nearly trip
over my trip 
le le tt er score 

the night is good still
it isn’t june, yet 

‘fuck’ is
o   n   e 
syllable
you can
say against
the inside
of someone’s
neck if you
feel like hurt
ing yourself
for a little
while 

secrets hidden  
beneath hip bones  
are harder to extract
but i figure it out
i let you figure me out (you hate that, don’t you) and you’re:  

      eyes closed, lips hungry
STARVING HAVE THEY EVER EATEN
seriously though I think there is a small sandwich
in the back pocket of my coat 

hair line fracture in your disposition
you can’t lie with your eyes closed
just because i need you
doesn’t mean i want you

car against the curb
headlights on
face dripping secret

i saw the door
open after it closed
but  i had a mouth full
of electric honey
i needed to swallow so
i walked away instead
of catching your hand
against the edge
of Invitation 

the night is good still 
it isn’t june, yet. 

you twist the tap open 

tattooed fingers catching
beads of city water 
brass knuckles and
chrome taps sinnnnnnng​
hey will you ever
teach me that
,maybe
how to make poetry
out of shitty plumbing 

you see me watching 
fingers move 
From: the side of the glass  To:
the side of my neck 
and now 
We Are: unfolding down the
walls with  
the tongues of peeling paint 

in the sink 
glass overflows
i overflow as
lips meet collar bone 

-hey look baby the
i try to say but you’re all: ​shh shh kiss me harder idiot make it fun still 
-tap’s a waterfall and
the glass a prince
crowned with bubbles 

  finish the sentence in my mind and if youre the water im the cup but you’d argue that til the dinosaurs came back who’s flooding who wouldn’t you 

“you can touch me.” 

no you  
had to grab my hand and
place it on your scars  
hold it there hold me just so 
if i moved too quickly 
your jenga tower  
world would come tumbling  
down and leave me alone 
with my guilt and your blame 
and that wasn’t somewhere to be, no, 
not when i could be with someone 
who said they saw light leaking from my pain
who said i was the most talented thing they’d
ever tasted