Shout out
To all the women
Who never gave me the time of day
In high school
Because I,
• Liked JD Salinger
• Read poetry
• And had two friends
One being a girl
And the other not knowing I liked
JD Salinger
And read poetry

I'm feeling like the hero in a Salinger book
Dodging your questions and all your ***** looks.

And when you turn the next page
I'll wish things'd stayed the same.
Between the lines about last year
And this year's opening phrase.

Every feeling I've carved
In with a pen
Dragged across paper
And threw in the trash bin.

What a waste of my time
Can I please waste yours?
I'm sitting on front steps
And knocking on back doors.

It's a perfect day for bananafish
It's a perfect day to feel alive
It's a perfect day for bananafish
It's a perfect night

And at times,
I feel like I've changed.
Learned all my lessons
And shouldered all the blame.

But I know,
It's a feeling short lived.
I'll give up the ghost
And let bitterness sink in.

And I'm sure
By the end of the night,
I'll have plans to call you
But those plans just won't feel right.

It's a thing
I know I'll regret
But you'll get married next year,
so I might as well forget.

Raise high the roofbeam, carpenters
We'll make the house come crashing down
Raise high the roofbeam, carpenters
I'm bringing it down

sticky tears  
clog my colorless cheeks and
stain the corners of my eyes like
wrinkles, unnecessary

nothing really matters
why am I really crying and
why’d you leave, again?

I guess driving down the pretty highway
with the trees that shaded a
hot day in an
expired June
wasn’t enough.
and I didn’t need to read about how
you don’t want to talk to me
or how you're busy
truth is, we all have **** to do
like how i sit here and cry
and how my tears clog my colorless cheeks and
stain the corners of my eyes like
crows feet, perhaps necessary

because unlike you, they'll stick around.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands