Keep Art Alive :: “Me Tea” :: Art by Timothy Karpinski
Grades were my glue that held my pieces together, but they began to taste stale. they were ever too easy to come by, and not much of a prize to bring home (not that I ever wanted to bring anything, or anyone, home) So, I hovered over your spirit. I caught it in breaths and syllables when we met in hallways, and under bleachers. I was drunk on you. you let me in through a side door, showed me glimpses, all those kaleidoscope images you reflected off, and onto me. I was safe to be around. I demanded nothing from you. You in your green sweater, with your ever too dark eyes. I wrote a million miracles of you in my head, of us, as I walked across the bridge, and down the hill towards an over-crowded bus ride home. I was holding you inside of all those mixed tape songs I never gave you. You were what I clung to in my long lonely nights, kept awake by the fear of nightmare monsters, kept awake from over-sized cups of coffee and the reflective light of a small television, and later, with our late night phone call conversations under the light of the moon, or the milky way, from my bedroom window. I never realized until much later that I was saving you, too, in those middle of the nights.
Under the Milky Way :: The Church