I smell a home cooked meal
Which does not make any sense
Because all that exists here
Is bitter coffee
And undercooked rice.

The day that my daughter
Starts elementary school
She’ll meet a little boy
And he’ll join our carpool.

With this little boy
Tea parties she’ll have
He’ll teach her to play soccer
He’ll make her laugh.

Together they’ll get older
Through the oddest of phases
But it’s my little girl
The little boy always praises.

They’ll go to prom
Walk in hand-in-hand
Each other’s secrets
They’ll always understand.

When the time comes
He’ll ask for permission
And my husband will say,
“On one condition.”

“Treat her well,” he’ll say.
“And if you don’t I will know.
She was my little girl
Not so long ago.”

He looked at my husband,
The boy—man, I mean,
And for the first time
A man he seemed.

He reached into his pocket
And took out the ring
He’d place on my girl’s hand
In the middle of spring.

Well, you got me
There, I said it:
I love you and
I love you madly and
I’m not as drunk as you think and
I want to be with you forever
And, Hello? Are you still there?
Talk to you tomorrow.
Goodnight…
So thanks for that,
Ironing my thick skin
So that it’s paper-thin.
I’m feeling
A little more vulnerable
Than yesterday,
A bit more ashamed
To put these emotions
To my name.
Thanks for tricking me,
You’ve proved me naïve
And if I weren’t so busy
Being thankful
I’d probably be ******
That the sun never rises
Exactly when it’s supposed to
And that you drove
In and out of my life
Without
Even breezing through
The rest stop.

We lie here
In fear
That we will
Make this work.

You led me on
Just to let me down
You said we'd have our time.

So this is me
Just letting you know
You're not worth all of mine.

He said, "Tell her it was your fault,"
As if a four-year-old drawing Spiderman in art class was the worst offense--
Messier than the milk he spilled that morning and louder than he'd scream that night
As his mom looms over him, saucepan in tow.
"Tell her it was your fault," he insisted as his mom got out of the car to collect her son,
Her property, her punching bag, and bring him home to God only knows what kind of house
Full of whips and chains or--perhaps worse than that--sheer normalcy and the emptiness of a wealthy family's home
Since a life lived being pushed around is one that feels bare like a vacant motel room
Where one day he'll sit, thrown out of his house by his wife and kids
Who will be stronger than his mom was, braver than she'll ever be.
He just wanted me to say it was my fault so I did, but it wasn't enough to break the spell
And now I know that nothing ever will be
Because five hours of statements with the police and interviews with child services
Won't effect change in this boy's life
Because if his saying, "Mom hits me" can't,
Then nothing will.

The whispers of the wind
Between our lips
Before they touch

Ask us why we say
So many goodbyes
If we love each other this much.

Home smells like
Kitty litter
And a just-lit fire.

Home sounds like
Footsteps
And the washer and dryer.

Home tastes like
Thick oatmeal
And peanut butter.

Home looks like
It's organized
Amongst my clutter.

Home feels farther away
Every day that I'm gone,
But I'm willing to let
The days drag on.

It was the darkest ******* night
You could imagine, especially
In a town like ours,
Stripped of streetlights
Down to the basic blinking
Of a single red stoplight,
Where the first selectman
Probably wants us to feel
Invisible, which is ultimately
What we really are
In this corner of the earth
Blind to war and starvation
And disease and discrimination
And bug bites and sour milk
And lost pen caps and return-to-sender letters…
Those things aren’t native in our minds
They don’t spill off the surfaces
Of our tongues because
We have people to worry
About that for us—
Well, I don’t—
But we couldn’t find the reservoir
So we sat in my car, turned off,
Emotions turned up,
And it winds up we were
Right next to the reservoir
The entire time…
It had just blended in
With the sky and with the road,
And if I didn’t know any better
I’d say we were just floating
Along the water as I told you things
And you held my hand
And the soles of your feet
Were pressed up against my windshield,
Which left imprints in summer dew, there,
And on my heavy heart,
But it was so ******* dark
And I didn’t even notice until morning,
When I couldn’t feel you squeezing
My hand every time I told you
Something new,
When it was light enough
To find the reservoir,
Which I don’t even think wanted
To be found.

She gave her rabbit an ear infection
And she goes out of her way to step on ants,
She crashed her car into a deer
And she purposely doesn't water plants.

She won't put ***** dishes
In the dishwasher like she should,
And she prefers not to write thank you notes
But if she does they're never good.

She wastes paper because she wants to
Not because she doesn't realize she's doing so,
She leaves the bathtub running for a second too long
Just to watch it overflow.

She argues with professors when she disagrees
And she'll do it in front of a class,
She hasn't learned just yet how
To speak to anyone without sass.

She says mean things to babies
In the sweetest sounding voice,
If she's helping someone make a decision
She'll encourage the wrong choice.

She's good at what she does
So she refuses to discuss
That she's not a good person,
But honestly...

...she's better off than any of us.

He’s on his way out,
But he’s five dollars short
Which is a miracle
To me.

It’s colder today,
As if my heart knows
This is how it’s meant
to be.

The cab driver says,
“It’s okay. Just hop in.
I’ll take you where
You need to go.”

His head ducks down
Into the car
And it pulls away
Too slow.

A meteor hits
The bottom of my soul
And my hair
Could pull itself out.

But it’s been
Two and a half years
So we already know
What this is all about.

I think I got tricked
Into holding the hand
Of a boy I didn't know
Because I couldn't withstand.

Now I don't know
If I'll ever see him again
But I think I might want to
Every now and then.

Remember the time
I only looked into your eyes?
How we’d smile and laugh
and sometimes cry?

I hoped that yours
would be the only eyes I’d ever see,
And that your eyes
would only ever see me.

But there are a lot of eyes,
Both here and there.
It was only a matter of time
until we each looked into another pair.

I’ve seen enough
and I’m just not impressed,
Because I’ve stared into the eyes
of the boy with the best.

The almond-shaped optics
that dress your face,
Even if I tried,
I could never replace.

So I dream about you
and my forehead touching yours,
And the way, from close up,
Your eyes look like the outdoors.

The green is the grass
and the blue is the sky,
And the black in the middle
Shows a reflection of my eye.

I look into a lot of eyes now,
Some brown and some blue.
But none could compare
to the ones belonging to you.

Remember the time
I only looked into yours?
Because from your eyes to mine
your love always pours.

When I drove up your driveway
To take you for a walk on the beach
I saw you lying on your back,
Arms crossed over your chest,
On the cold summer-night pavement
With your mom standing above you
So I rolled down my window
And she looked at me and said,
“Too many pancakes.”

I wish that you had wanted me
Before you knew I would exist,
That when you found out about me
You gave my mom a kiss,

That you held me in your arms
The same day that I was born,
That you helped me take my first steps
Along your bathroom floor,

That you watched me blow dry my hair
Before my very first date,
That you sat me down one day
And encouraged me to wait,

That you waited up for me
When you knew I would come home drunk,
That you whispered in my ear,
"I knew that guy was a punk,"

That you sent me off to college
And would not let me see you cry,
That you found out I got a bad grade
And disappointedly asked me why,

That you would let me take care of you
When you grow old and grey,
That you would fade toward death
But convince me it was better that way,

That you thought you should act as
A parent and a friend,
That you were man enough to be
A man on whom I could depend.

So they walked up the mountain
Among frozen air and raccoons,
To share a first kiss
That led to many similar afternoons.

Now that I'm gone
I see how it's true
That when you're physically gone
Your mind is too.

Mine's in Montreal
Where there's no right on red,
Where I woke up to a roommate
Fast asleep in her bed.

Until August I'll keep dreaming
In French words I don't yet know
And how I'm missing the few months
Montreal sees no snow.

I will know that he is the one
If the world starts and ends with him,
And if his hands
Rest easy on my soul.

I won't give him up
If his voice can talk me into a dream,
And his touch makes me
Keep and lose control.

I promised
I would return with
Money for you, sir.

So why, then,
Did I take
A longer way home?

I would do anything to kiss you
Goodnight just one last time
So I could stop believing
I may never again.

I wonder if you feel the same
You bleak and lonely man...
Do you even think about your daughters
Every now and then?

I release
Every sound
And bit
Of sweat
That would
Have escaped
Me had
I been
With you
Instead.

As I get older
I hope I get bolder
And say how I feel
So I don't have to deal
With feeling regret
And being in debt
To everyone who
I seem to put through
By not being blunt
And refusing to confront.

If I could go back in time
And say one thing
When I still had you
I would tell you
Not to take for granted
People like me...
Because I was ready
To keep an extra towel
By the shower
And stock my fridge with
Water bottles so they were
Always cold the way you liked...
I was ready
To adore you
To love you, even,
And you threw that away.
Getting rid of me
Meant getting rid of
Late night drives to nowhere
And so much ice cream
That it hurt
But you didn't seem to mind
And it's probably better that way
But man, I wish I could go back
And tell you
That you'll never find anyone
Willing to give as much as I was
Or put so much into
Making something work.
I can't go back
And tell you this
But if I could I would,
And I would tell you
While holding your hand
So you could feel my pulse
Beating through your skin
And you might think,
"This is the beat
Of a heart
I could love."
But if I could go back
And say all these things
I would say them
And walk away,
And I'm just taking a guess
But I think
You might regret
Writing me off.

Never stop
Spilling crumbs
All over yourself
When you eat.

I find it lovely
Even though
I complain
Every time.

I wish I believed
Sheer loneliness
Was a sham

Created by
Screenwriters
To play with

Our emotions
As we await
A romantic reunion

But I don't
Because
I know

A woman
Who is utterly
Alone.

Sip a little more
And let your eyes glaze
Until they roll back into your head

Where they can't see
What you have going for you
But the comfort of darkness instead.

A snowlake fell onto the windshield
It softened--melted away
A subtle and gentle trace
Of who we were
And where we were going.

Every idea you hang onto
About beauty and “the one”
Is forged and skewed
By your deepest need
To fall madly in love
With whoever will have you.

I used to think we should
Learn to be alone
Before we convinced ourselves
We’re meant to be together.

I take that back
Because I’m done
Second guessing
Whether we’ll be in love forever.

Were there one moment
In the day
That words didn't fly
In flights and swarms
From our mouths
To the sky
Without stopping
By our ears,

I might consider
Telling you
How I feel about
What we're turning
Into now,
But why say
Even one word
If you won't hear?

I know I'm going to lose you one day
Because I've done and will do things wrong
It amazes me that we've made it this far
And that no one better has come along.

We are old and alive
And allowed to drive.
But between you and me
I'll never feel free.

We are old but alive
And we've had our time.
Just listen when I say
We'll be together one day.

She never shows her sadness
or makes anyone aware
that deep down she is hurting
and that the pain is hard to bear.

She acts like nothing’s wrong,
like everything will be okay.
I think this really worked for her
up until yesterday.

“Why?” she asked,
“Why is this the end?”
What a hard question
for such an honest friend.

What I said was this,
which may or may not be true:
“Because now something else
is supposed to happen to you.”

I’m sure she’ll disregard that,
and I’d certainly do the same.
But someday she’ll come to realize
it doesn’t hurt to hear his name.

And when that day comes
I hope she’ll understand
That the “something” I once spoke of
was always in life’s plan.

Does being enslaved
To ourselves
Make us
Free?

You didn't know my age,
My favorite color, nor my name,
So why was I surprised that
To you I was just a game?