he asks of my favorite.

i pluck one from the air; they are still swinging around my dreamy little head like plastic-bit mobiles.
there are a few.

one i did not tell is clutching my sweating hands in coat pockets while my face scrunches into the cold.
huddled into that shuffling city walk always seeking something, coffee sushi beer.
warmth mostly or a place to pee.
watching this lanky comfortable confident stroll at my side, grinning from my eye-corners. darting around people like i am smooth or something. like i am trying to impress you.
i will realize this only later.

one is spilling wine on my pajamas. another is cleaning wine off the floor.
broken shards everywhere and thinking myself too motherly if i tell these boys
Be Careful There Is Glass Here.
they know i think. they are barefoot monkeys but big kids still. they know.

(they get a pie anyway
and do not eat it.) punks.
one of you did though and found the secret ingredient.

one is spitting a pickle-bite back out into my napkin and trying not to make too much of a mess and still getting pickle juice on my pants but not laughing because i was so revolted.
i was also warned.

one is mellow basement computing with one of you.
quiet but not silent because it seems comfortable and i am mostly just observing.
when we do speak it is in low tones like one might with a cat. i like this.

one is thrashing against a wedgie. but not too hard. i deserved it.
the other is fighing off the NINJA ASSASSIN at your doorstep. hahaha. i did. all by myself.
i knew silent footfalls would come in handy someday.

and subway. and smiling. and subway. and smiling. and subway.
and oh oops here come the junior mafia. just be cool and no one will notice.

one is secret places but i will not tell too much.
just glints in my eye of snow on rocks and light on rivers and breath on faces.
and that is all you get of that one.

the car is also a secret but the gardening shears are not.
i want to see some fingers severed.

and airport moments.
this is usually my closet voyeur:
humanity in the midst of hello and goodbye and will i ever see you again
clutching and crying. or a deep kiss. or running through terminals grinning like madmen.
or looking back over their shoulders for a final glimpse but it is too late they have already rounded the corner.
but here is the thing: the tables are sometimes turned.

and wine and gin and bears in kegs. i think.
i do not know. something happened.
i will not list all yr names. just because. special peoples know who they are.
i heart you all and you know it.

the one i chose to tell though
is about a brisk brooklyn morning
walking into waking with three of the best
breakfast headed and for a beat footfalls into step
with each other and we were nothing short of invincible.