let’s talk about the time i let you kiss me
against that spit plastered
**** streaked
wall
against my better judgement
that kiss stained
your lips with
cherries in the snow
[actually let’s not talk about the time i let you kiss me]
i match my fingernails to my lipstick color
[because a man in the 1950s had a genius idea to sell more make up]
but i don't think you noticed
that signifier of high maintenance
[because we took the subway back to yours after the show]
as if i could live with a grown man
do you even watch law & order?
the fact that you knew pythagoras’ theorem
when i was being pushed out of the womb
at first turned me on
but after getting in [your] hot water
it scared me
how much more you knew
were you my apple?
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
i miss sleeping in on saturdays and spending all our money on delivery
did you know you can get eggs and pancakes and bacon delivered to your apartment?
already cooked
just the way you like it
paid for online
sent to you by an immigrant on a bike.
i think i wanted to say something a bit deeper
something with some weight to it.
but i know this is a start.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
on a plastic bench
from left to right
there’s him and you, then me
his head aches
because of too much liquor
it’s a fault of self control
his pulsing temples
heavy eyelids
your feet ache
you danced too much
you always dance too much
with the wrong shoes on
toes crushing each other
my face hurts
you said I smiled too much
at strangers whose names I don’t remember
strangers at the party
on the street
on this train
the electric hum sings us to sleep
gently gently
feel the rock of the car
softly softly
we’re babies in a metal bassinette
and like a mother kisses her baby
I want to kiss you
on your forehead
and hold your hand
rest that sleepy head on my shoulder
I’ll take you home
and tuck you in
leave water by your bedside
I think he wants to kiss me
not like a mother and a baby
not like a friend
but with soft lips
and warm togues
hand in hair
I’d let him kiss me
but not now
it’s our stop and i’ve got to make sure you get to bed safely
don’t slip on the pavement
remember to wash your face
it’s okay
he’s got my number
but he won’t want to kiss me in the morning
with the sun up and the birds chirping
when there’s coffee to buy and newspapers to read
I am letting this slip away
I’m fine
this isn’t his stop
we can’t transfer here
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
a spiders hairy legs
the comb you forgot you left under your bed
covered in tar
yesterday morning's coffee filter
barbie's toilet brush
the holed paddle of a canoe.
tall tree branches without leaves
the potted plant in the corner nobody water
the ****** of your grandfather's bead
this is a trip to the ER
for a stye, pink eye, no eye
this is friendship and fear
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
Black cylinder, clear skylight creamy center
rasberries or cherries, frozen strawberries
this is a color for winter
red cheeks coming in from the cold
mini switchblade with the blood of my enemies
this is the girl at the party happy alone
stubby legs stuffed into tight jeans
the observatory's great circle lens
the last stick of gum in the bottom of a purse
and at the same time the ruby the queen wore
twelve dollars for .15 onces
the weight of five quarters turns into a dime
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
the blurry words of men ring through my ears as my eyes struggle to see dancing letters shift upon the screen
i am numb.
i have been up for seconds that turned into minutes into hours.
almost a day
almost a night
i am up for you
for hot metal on cold thighs
for fingers with chipped polish pushing keys.
for l o n g lines and space bar hits
page breaks and enter keys
i am awake for you
for As and Bs and Cs
i am awake for you
awake for months worth of paychecks signed away in a single pen stroke.
the blurry words of men ring through my ears as my eyes struggle to see dancing letters shift upon the screen
i am numb.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 4:19 AM UTC