solitaire hours
      spent
preparing the
         face
they will meet

pour tea
       take cake
       and make
advice

a little butter
    maybe a
     little
      ice

at half past
             three
quote Shakespeare

and
invoke
the automatic
          hand
of
chic

Spin-bycicle wheels
As I turn onto Salerno st.
A canal to cross
So I can toss
My backpack into bushes

Duct tape
Rubber gloves
This is love-true

Blade or tongue
I've become
Something

Poncho hood
In the wood
Calm
Begins to rain
Sane

Hammer-I feel
In my chest
Creeping mist
Tooth-smile

Tommorow I will wake up and you will be lying against me. Our scents mingled on the pillow. All the books will be written and I will drink black coffee and look at their spines aligned neatly on our bookshelf. I can watch barefoot the sun rise without the need to move for a more perfect view. My mind will be the ancient cathedral and me its  solitary monk. Peace. Sunlight pouring through the stained glass. Tommorow I will wake up next to you clothed only in sun

The girl in school
Who I think on
            often
    I write her poems
                 hardback textbook
        In between paragraphs
                     I lick my finger
turning the page
If I could only tell you
How the secret pencil marks I leave
                   Make me want to scream
She smells so boss
           Like grape bubblegum
                  
I Wrote her tonight
              Slipped the folded note   into her  pocket
        
My heart skips
         As she sits in Economics
Paper cut red
When she found and read
                   The wide rule page