When I stepped out of the shower this afternoon
the tile felt strong and cool and my towel
smelled like Christie’s condo in Newport Beach
 
where near 22nd street boys on banana boards
and teeny beamy heartbreakers bob and bounce
toward the shore with laughing popsicle lips.
 
Little cut-aways like this remind me the ways
I love you like some Floridian Yeastie smirking
and weeping a collage of her honest everything
 
or listening to the new Purity Ring, thinking
even the boring empty things make me want to come
up with new ways to love you.