Hilary B

The mother of my nephew and niece
has got a sense of humor that can't be beat.
And when she dances to beats in that silver dress,
it's not her goal to have you impressed,
yet such sentiment is a success.
From her beauty I shall now digress.

She told me women come in trios:
the smart, the pretty, and the fun.
But, Hilary, you're right about one thing.
You're all three, not just one!

Speaking to collegiate humor,
and a technical school's fun.
Do you recall a ratio jeer?
Because RPI is 3-2-1!

Now for something more bawdy...
When they're feeling rather intense:
Boyscouts might seek some relief
by getting out of then back in tents.

Hilary, you're a wonderful lady.
Ned's lucky, my friends all agree.
You're smashing! Wizard! You're king!
Maybe there's someone like you for me.

Hilary K 2

We danced like we were hippies:
frolicking happily and light.
In a party of the sixties,
we danced all through the night.

What is happiness for a time?
Just laugh a little smile.
Hilary, you bring on the sublime,
even for just a little while.

How lucky am I?
To love so many so much.
Quite the fortunate guy,
as I see it as such.

I'm honored as a safe space for you.
And I wonder when you knew you knew.
Because now I trust a feeling I have too.
Perhaps you'll let me confide in you?

Ethereal Grasp

Deeds I dealt.
Gifts I have given.
Taken or felt.
My reach has risen.

Reach for clouds.
Pockets of ice.
Mist is loud.
Scatter the mice.

Cruelty took
vanity bare
shattering shook
into thin air.

Adam O

Never bored while on the board.
Nothing lame about these games.
Always dancing, jumping, prancing.
Never snoozing, rolling, boozing.
Time to think? How 'bout a drink!
Do we have fun? We have a ton!
Eat pasta, eat pizza, what ever might ease ya.
Let loose, just do it! Rock on the music!
All I can say Adam, is: Oh my damn.

I'd love to see you with a tambourine,
the next time we sing The Yellow Submarine.

Sam Simms

My memories of Sam will persist past passing. They were concentrated with him, me, and Chris Bogie at Royle School and Middlesex Middle school from 4th-6th grade. I'm going to just name memories in no particular order, their significance is like a stream of movies clipped over in my head: Super Smash Brothers after getting in the pool, the rope swing, getting in the pool after Smash, playing tag when I had a sunburn, pod racing with flying turtles, the time he farted like 40 times when we were sitting in a movie aisle... I don't even care what that movie was, we were 10, and it was the funniest thing ever! Doing the slip and slide. The revelation that, "DON'T LOOK OVER HERE" actually draws attention to you when you are changing. We played hide and seek with the remote fart machine noise maker. The Vortex Vornado. That blimp thing. Mario party blisters, so many blisters. Trying to sneakily watch Species II. Those grannies telling us to "get off our property!" Talking about girls for the first time. And how ridiculous was Walter Shock?

I got made fun of hard in 4th grade, so much so, that I eventually changed seats in the lunch room (classic). Sam was making jokes about losing lunch (vomit variations). And he made me laugh after I'd been crying. Our friendship was that of boyhood innocence.

Your memories will never leave me.

Nate B

We met conversing at music night,
we settled on a certain facet:
The story of my health improvement...
from nothing short of Magic.

Our gatherings would soon diversify
into a game where we carefully miss.
And all our aim and concerted tries
are thrown by hand with discs.

It's lucky that I met this dreaded guy.
It's almost like he fell in by fate.
With that poofy hair on your stoop.
I see you all the time, Nate.

And yet again we have a mutual hobby.
The blur of the hacky sack in the air.
Round house kicks and scorpion whips.
Watch the jump snap of the Blair!

Seth W

Let's start from the beginning,
A wonderful place to start.
I met you by some rum and dice.
And we were quickly set apart.

"You need to explain the rules better." As I kept taking shots of rum. And I really tried to do it better as I got evermore drunk and dumb. I laughed at this scenario, nervously hilarious, all these new faces! You didn't spare me though, thought I was nefarious. "Don't laugh at me, that's what you're doing!" I felt helpless in a brew shop where only hate was brewing. You walked away, were we enemies that day?

Then, like a week later, I was invited to the Ceotto's. I arrived late, and felt only full of "uh-ohs". 40 minutes from Middletown, the place was empty, barren. Just some lonely clothing piles and a lazy dog held therein. I started to explore the forest, but didn't get too far. A sign angrily stated, "halt, it's a reservoir." Which, of course, was where you were. You rampant rascals! Slowly trickling back as a park ranger explained that you were being assholes.

There you were, Seth, shirtless, scars across your chest. "Oh, hell," I thought, "heart problems, such a fucking mess." Here I landed again, unfamiliar faces, a brand new situation. Let's gauge how the humor in this place is, and create a presentation. Did Karly feel any long term-scorn concerning sexism and sexes? Comments, heckles, viewing porn, did I leave lasting vexes? I assume straight dudes are defaulted misogynist, even though I'm the gentlest of feminists. See the nonsense in my mind? Just wait 'til I start toking. I put myself in CRAZY binds, especially when I start joking.

Any way, there we were, Seth, for some reason I chose to exhale fire breath. I got a gulp of 151 and spat it in a lighter. But the results were a dud, then only something slightly brighter. In the fire of your eyes, on that summer day, I also exhaled a sigh, because we made peace that day.

Then, surprise! You were on a bus bound to a quarry, "Okay listen, blah blah blah, pay attention to me, blah blah blah, this important for your safety..." And we headed over to the show. There was an arsenal of New Haveners whom I'd shortly get to know. We would grow stories as I got to know them well, and several would get poems that I would gladly tell.

The next time I saw you was in Scott's backyard. Where you confronted me with a brand new issue, strange and surely hard. You mentioned a word that starts with the letter Q, somehow not okay for me to say but it was okay for you! You pushed my sexuality like an obvious law, "a straight dude shouldn't say that," How hypocritical! What a flaw! This wasn't my territory, yet this was utter crap, arguing felt obligatory, I mean, Anya was in your lap! I backed away from such a flagrant issue, and deemed it dangerous to pursue.

Then in that same night you told me about being trans, we talked of your growing pains and adolescent plans. Our relationship changed forever, in clarity for the better.

As an aside, about these despicable words to utter. A poet needs vocabulary as his bread and butter. I respectfully refuse to say several words, but dislike appropriation. Slang evolves alongside all the misappropriation. There will always be words of malice and cruelty, in my opinion, owning them is dangerous and altogether fool-hardy. Of course, Seth, we've had this conversation. And agreeing to disagree shows relationship maturation.

We're still back in time, summer of 2014, so I'll keep busting rhymes about how our paths were crossing:

You invited me to potluck more and more often, we still disagreed on stuff, but my heart began to soften. On your birthday I expressed a poem of PRIDE! And in the audience of Pericles, you took it all in stride. On your birthday, I got to help in an ironic bake, a peach wielding fondant frosted lady-cake. You undoubtedly also picked up more about me... like certain innocence and ignorance of intimacy.

Then, during my contemplation to Scotland, "You can afford it, you're young, and..." Here it comes, "You're good looking." What?! That's something only my mother would say to try to push the depression away. And with those words, (remember vocabulary to a poet?) women's interests became apparent, but I'd still manage to blow it. I understood abuse, especially emotionally. But, now, people were nice to me. It seemed such kindness couldn't be real, I feared the endearment I started to feel. Those feelings became pathological. And I fell into something psychological.

For the first time I was angry with you, but I felt so toward everyone. Sleepless nights and stress felt through, nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. I needed you, thought you were the only one to help. But, even now I can't understand why I felt that you betrayed me, delayed me, ignored me, abhorred me. Perspective is so important in the context of my loss. I can't explain the crisis at the apex of my chaos. I expected so much from you, from everyone, and too much from myself, but my standards were unrealistic and taxing on my health.

I'm short of breath: writing now from then. I've said it Seth, I'm sorry, will it ever end? I sit here watching the crystal-clear story in my mind. I want to change it, but I can't rewind. You know, in a way, I'm lucky to have felt such a range of emotion, and I shouldn't have expected such (what? devotion?). It takes a lot to get me frustrated, remember your proclamation at nonsense of your one-way street? Have I now demonstrated I can trudge over losses and defeat?

Granted, this has been the more serious side of our affairs. So here I remind of question marks and 'A's in my chest hairs. And the time a queen heckled me on stage. Secret contemplations: putting a master lock in your earlobe's gage. When we sprinted through the beach to cold murky surf, that little girl eyeing our balloon for all that she was worth.

There is "no oath, no spell, no prayer and no hell, but the one we made." You were there for me when I laughed, fell, and felt afraid. I might be so bold to say, you've been on excellent friend to me, and I marvel that I thought you were my enemy.

Meredith

There I was, on a bed in this chick's apartment next to a dude named Lee. We were drinking some and playing this game from like 1973. The concept was tremendously trippy with art held hilariously hippy. Yet again I found myself in a mix of unfamiliar faces. What ever. I have fun no matter what the space is.

And then you arrived. Another exception to prove the rule, a babe whose presence has most gamers drool. But, not me. I'll be glad to keep my composure, while so many nerds lose themselves to overexposure. You're attractive: those curves, hair, and face, it's a physical fact. I'm a sucker for an Irish woman, your beauty strikes a chord, simple as that. I seriously think the Irish hold some sort of magic, good witches exist, their lost art is tragic. Any way, back to the history of that attractive girl, was she smart or funny? Was this worth a whirl?

That night I heard your writing read aloud, my respect was beset: instantly proud. I don't care if that work came from fifth grade, my night came alive and my day was made. Then I was enlightened to your musical talent, play several instruments, but Berkeley can't have it. At that moment I knew: smart, pretty, funny... I was interested in you.

It was a bit of a shot in the dark, but maybe you'd come to MakeHaven and pluck on my harp. But, you were just a tad detached, and I sensed you weren't interested in becoming attached. I told Megan everything seeing as she was your good friend, but she told me you had a tenuous relationship with your boyfriend. Knowledge like that can be a relief because it makes the uncertainty brief. I saw you around, here, there, and occasionally in town, and at a couple of parties where I enjoyed playing clown.

Awhile passed and I saw this bike on a post, it looked just like the one pictured on your facebook post. "Well, shit!" I thought. "Is this stolen?" Which friend had I caught? Then, I glumly reported what I had found, a depressing message with a mess surely in bound. I took pictures like a private detective, trying to stay cool, calm, and collected. But, luckily this bike was defective, but my snooping was somewhat effective... Because you made an allusive reference to your ex. Well, maybe something good could from those texts? But shit, his name's Andrew. Dammit. He tainted my namesake. Dammit!

I saw something new, the sparkles of your eyes had me attracted to you. But, I had to hold back, it was too soon. So sorry about this, "Shut up Hugh!" I'm never so mean, but how else could I force myself to stay clean? Clean isn't the exactly the right word, but I needed safety lest premature feelings were spurred.

Then... surprise! You're moving away. SHIT! Why does this happen day after day? Dammit. Oh well. I'd have to move fast, ah hell.

We had laughs upon laughs, smiles for smiles. When we're around each other, we're happy for a while. The A on my chest. MakeHaven dancing's the best. A terrible game of Puerto Rico, you were leaving in under a week, oh...

Finally a music night, and a couple drinks to join. The moment wasn't certainly right, and it felt like flipping a coin. And you said, "No." I said "Okay." We got in our cars and we drove away.

--

Not wanting to lose a friend, I made a text transition in truth. I wanted you to realize my motives weren't wholly uncouth. In a way though, I think you're protecting yourself from a familiar danger, but you should realize that no matter what, I won't become a stranger. I'm excellent at communication, and it seemed like there was mutual infatuation.

The beauty I see in you transgresses your appearance. And if your convictions are clear, I'll keep physical adherence. I like you for you, and I think you like me for me too.

Come to Europe and be my friend, let's see how this story develops around the bend.

In crimson chaos crammed with crazy,
Decisions daunt and delve amaze me.
Don't fear the Reaper whom I adore.
Unveil the view of me, and Seemore.

I take comfort in providing it for you.
How you pursue it is what I'll do.