what's your favorite

whats your favorite? do I have to choose? I woke up thinking of sushi and sunny days and the taste of salt on my skin and peanut noodles?
that insane place right on the back of my neck that likes to be rubbed
or nuzzled
eyes caught and smiling across the room and a sudden look of understanding
or just,



understanding

what's you favorite? you very favoritist?
what if I said broccoli and peaches and that slight sinking feeling right before sleep, or head rubs, or the last bit of melted ice mixed with a bit of bourbon
or the first time I saw stars in a cave or the way the ocean looks on a stormy day?
what if it were the first time I heard that swell of music, maybe the beginning of that song
dear prudence
no
moon river
no
something by sly
no
new amsterdamn
no
sitting in the back of the car, almost asleep, almost at the end of a long long trip, the opening of black wings floating in on me
and that last line, that ringing truth,
(when time from time shall set us free)
and that tingling in the back of my head as I stretch out and stop...thinking for a minute
oh, all these favorites. these greatest moments and favoritiest flavors
I have this memory, this sensation I get when I think of me, five, looking at a lizard, swimming on the surface of the pool, reflections of the water everywhere
and I can still remember the first time I knew him, really knew him, and he knew and we both knew and their was relief in knowing
sweet holy hell
and the moment right before
or, you know, maybe the moment right after
and then theres that feeling
spooned, legs tightly cupped together, his hand, cupped on one hip... and bare feet having their own conversation

yes, thats my favorite