She likes toy soldiers with mustaches
and rolling camels from newspapers
(that way she has something to read when she smokes)

She likes spin the bottle at recycling centers
and starting arguments over produce
(she prefers steamed vegetables, you see)

She adores staycations in someone else's house
and dinner theatre for breakfast
(a little Hamlet and eggs)

She likes every other Tuesday
and clocks with only minute hands
(it's more her speed)

She likes hunting for change in penny arcades
and five & dimes
(but not dollar stores...go figure)

She likes soda crackers (but not soda)
She likes beer nuts (but not beer)
She likes wine cozies (well, you know the rest)

Does Hope cause immunity?

The trees breathing vapor
Exhalt against the forest skyline
Intangible matter, dense, blends the cold
Condensing, Gathering
up from the ground;
the edges of a silken cloth.

This time of year is Dampness,
the heat dissipates and
drops the flower petals' clammy tissues
Roiling shades of ochre.

This time of year
Seeds are Summer Dreams incapsulate, Breaking free, drifting overhead
Gone, forgotten--
Rust that smells like blood
blooms over the countryside.

A second glance back--
Barren are the bones of winter.

I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.

I dream I move out into the woods,
and it gives me the things the world never could.
I sit there, my man and I,
between the shadows of the trees,
far away from a world,
that never will be pleased.

The worries I have faced,
the troubles I've been through.
What brings me here,
doing the things I tell myself I must do.

All the crosses I have bared,
and the love that I have lost;
just because I've been scared.

All these rules, I tell myself I must live by,
are they the things that keep me lonely,
or are they the things that keep me alive?