ricotta and jam

i met a girl
at a coffee shop
in europe
i said hi

we got to talking
she said it’s time i get out of here
but i don’t know where to go
i said the same thing
to myself yesterday

follow your heart
what else could i say
her half smile, a crescent moon
her dark eyes, nothing special about them
she fixes her hair
her words flat:
i can’t take that advice

because my heart built a home
in a polished seashell
the one that lies on the coastline
of a ruined city
seventeen hundred miles away

disguised as a lipstick stain
on the rim of a red solo cup
filled half way with liquor
half way with lust
lust at a frat party
i am a passerby

it makes hootch
in the rainforest
and dances to the sound
of languages it can’t understand
makes love to flamenco
in cobblestone alleys far away in the past

i always forget that
it sits idly in this coffee shop
waiting for visions to become words
ten thousand words, ten thousand more
my fingers like rocket ships

my heart takes rest in a city
blooming in frondescence
wrapped up in auburn curls
curls that do not shed, i shed

underneath a sticky bar mat
in a busy city center late night
conversations of substance, or not
company of substance, or not
i’ll make you a white russian
with my eyes closed

my heart salutes the sun amongst the Joshua Trees
a place where it never rains
my heart hallucinates
the clouds put on a show
i could stay,
what happens if i stay
if i leave
do you see?

if i follow my heart
ill be stretched so thin
my skin will blanket the galaxy
my bones will float mid air

if i follow my heart
my elbow will live in France
while my toes march the rockies
my lips will sing country songs
in dive bars and dorm rooms

my ass will sit on a train
with a one way ticket to nowhere in particular
just because the thought of starting over
tastes as sweet
as this ricotta and jam
this ricotta and jam, have you tried it?

i have
how’d your heart get there
to all of these places
the wind, i guess.
maybe you should follow the wind, i said.
maybe i should follow the wind

2 Replies to “ricotta and jam”

  1. I am sitting alone at a French Cafe in India, waking up imagining all the places and people I have left my heart with across the world. Your poem is beautiful, describing a freedom, sadness, and love that is life itself. Thank you so much for sharing, and being such an incredible writer : ) Love you – Nick

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