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JUSTIN LACOUR I AM A PILGRIM In the company of men i embarrass myself confusing Steve Spurrier with Steve Spagnuolo now an impromptu drum circle and who can eat the biggest sandwich i long to be swinging dick of open mic nite but also a voice to help you sleep again in the library you sit in mismatched socks reading a book of difficult poems i want to belong to you to tell you it’s okay to put your head down for a little while on earth we get to walk two by two So i never kissed you at the corner of Montrose and Westheimer like i wanted all the nights of signs and wonders you drank straight vodka and lost your shoes at a party you walked back to campus banging on church doors telling them to let in the poor you were going to replace the canon with all the lies we told the cops with cigarette smoke and dragonfly wings and more beautiful than flowers your hands around the neck of a flower Cockblocked again by my seasonal depression but also by my swole roommate Eamon i sit alone at house of pies stubbing out cigarettes into a monte cristo and contemplating how my hands might feel on your back not clumsy for once more like the nitrous that italian girl in the dorms is always doing i mean i want to be gentle so gentle i can touch all the places you hurt without hurting them again |