Alaska

Alaska
 by Jordan Brooks
Nov. 26, 2016.

Our love slowly freezes,
 words become annoyances,
 and we can't go to the pretty place (Anchorage),
 because there's nothing special about living in our ordinary, everyday.

And I'm thinking of working late, just staying in the story
 (and) escaping today.
 My protagonist,
 aware of how things are supposed to be,

she always corrects everything,
 And when he objected,
 the attitude doesn't want to see him at all,
 holding-out on kisses, and quiet in bed.

And then he falls for her again, when she's finished,
 like he did in the beginning,
 well, it all angers me.
 They won't ever attend to each other,

the blindness, the immaturity,
 I wonder if they even love each other,
 if he's just like me,
 I'm just your Bang Bang Bart.

(And attitudes,)
 maybe I've been looking for your clinical diagnosis,
 its ever-unspoken words:
 of concepts never founded.

Everyday, as attitude is paining
 she does love him,
 from sea to shining sea,
 (in the house in Alaska atop the coldest peak,

that snow-filled wind blows through the yard,
 in the house it doesn't even flicker the flame
 except she loves the cold attitude I hate:
 it's from the comfortable warmth of inside of our home--

our home,
 protecting us from the cold and the loneliness of the world,
 the love of a boy and a girl,
 a husband, a wife--

Is it difficult to believe,
 like, that this happens
 I should always believe she does love him,
 because somehow, she probably does.)

Jordan.