Cicero-Christina Bruno
Cicero
By Christina Bruno
You are my cicero.
you came swaddled in plumes of menthol with creases of my favorite facts
inbetween
you spoke “me” fluently
we sat on your bed
my hand in the fold of your elbow
heroic tales of war movie posters in Italian
i look at you, i like to look at you
you show me your library, you have more books than me
maps and medals of where you have traveled
pictures of you and brothers in the desert
with distant eyes…
let’s go back in time, burn that contract
even if it is up in july
what reagan said about you was true
i like your lips
i want to taste the after of the aftershave on your neck
i wish I were the bubbles in your beer
of the gingerale you chase your jameson with
a gas mask lays flimsily on
top of your book shelf
tylenol p.m. behind your cologne
i hate bush
"concrete shoes"
you want me only when you see
me
the ring never sounds
the question is never asked
the answer is “I’m an asshole.”
No. I am.
Copyright C. 2008 Christina Bruno