Dear Anakara

In a land where men destroy everything lovable about them you flash your green card as we compare crooked teeth. My mouth aches down to a crease in the corner you discovered and adore inexhaustibly. Foreign man from an ancient, crescent land your young naive smile betrays it's hopeless dreams. My eyes, heavy burdens, wander to the bare wall - complete negative space. You have the key to keep me in but I can jump any gate. Your young naive smile and soft expressive amber eyes, your absolute trust in my bare body horrifies me. I am a pale flame, flickering and then smoldered by the mist of a sobering dampened dawn. Here in this stark room of cheap cologne and dial soap and your scattered life of plastic wraps I am unbearably sick with disconnect. I turn and lay throbbing head and hollow heart next to your dead weight in a dead affair. I just lay there and stare out the window where the neighbor is watering weeds alone. I am crawling out of my languid, listless skin these strangers have fouled their way in and I have never felt more desolate. Dear Anakara, you are in the wrong country for such hopeless, half-lit dreams and I'm just too goddamn American.