Lemonade

I considered agreeing with you on a certain memory uncompromised by the two of us for certain; it would have inspired something out of us - the numb.
So obviously unbalanced and excessive
I squeezed two whole lemons, added 8 tablespoons of sugar and put it in a gallon of water.
I called it lemonade
You called it sour
Or my sun-lit-salt-smelling-sex
You said was "a way to wake up"
Or the joke you explained
That I said, "I got it-but it's just not funny"
I wish I could have inspired a poet in you
But you only said, "can you put your shoes away?"

My shoes in the living room
Planted, for you to trip over
So that I can climb you
Bite into your skin
Find some poetry.

the german

he
drinks cutty sark
watches the discovery channel
eats the left over lasagna i made with
kraft american cheese (that no one else will touch)
he takes me fishing every week still
even though i am too old to talk to him sweetly
and too young to talk you him with respect
its been years since he quit smoking but
he smells of smoke and whiskey and hearty smiles
he tells me what a good cook i am
and that my hair looks nice today
he hands me condoms
and begs me not to have sex yet
he loves my mother the way i won't see again
until my brother meets his wife

i am eighteen
seeing my father for the last time

he is sitting on the couch
drinking cutty sark and
eating the left over lasagna i made with
kraft american cheese (that no one else will touch)
he says, "you're a good cook"
and i forget to say,
i love you.