[no vacancy]

a love song for the girl

who grew up confusing anger

for love. unconditional.

hands that press unyielding

against shoulders like push doors

and pull childhood secrets

from between your legs.

what do you remember when you

call home. no answer.

i drive from jersey city

to your one-light college town

and call you asking

where you are. i'm at the door.

if you spend any more time fucking

strangers, we'll be late.

no one spends less time

reading quality literature than me.

i am heroically uncultured,

and the only thing i can say

when you recount the years of therapy

is fuck babe that's so fucked up.

are you asking for more.

are you lying in my arms asleep

and wishing there was

one more man inside me,

one man enough to say he loves you

when he kisses your eyelids

and knows he does.

find someone else then. hook up

with someone your own age

who understands the millennial

need for absolution. how you need

someone to need you

the way you need him. or

are you settling for me and for this

emotional distance, detachment,

fear of depending too deeply

in someone i love. because i love you.

this is how i am telling you,

in small words you can read

quickly, without feeling too much,

because you trust the boy

who would have let you be hurt

rather than learn to put your pain

before his. so history

repeats itself. in fourteen years,

we stand silent in a hospital morgue

looking down at our daughter

who is saying i love you

by loving the ones who hurt her

more than i will.