A porcupine skin,
Stiff with bad tanning,
It must have ended somewhere.
Stuffed horned owl
Pompous
Yellow eyed;
Chuck-wills-widow on a biased twig
Sooted with dust.
Piles of old magazines,
Drawers of boy's letters
And the line of love
They must have ended somewhere.
Yesterday's Tribune is gone
Along with youth
And the canoe that went to pieces on the beach
The year of the big storm
When the hotel burned down
At Seney, Michigan.

hello honey
it's been a while has it not
how have you been?
me?
oh,
I've been crazy
starving
drunk
and drunk
and higher than a choir boys voice
I'm so broke I've been smoking Pall Malls
but don't worry darling,
I'm not dead yet
oh please do tell me about
the hundreds of other guys
and girls
that you've been seeing
they sound great
I know I've been trying this for years
but why don't we take us out for a spin?
oh not yet
don't worry I'll keep trying
Listen baby
I was thinking about you while you were gone
it was all I was thinking about
and I've got a feeling I'll see you soon
I know it
deep in the pit of my gut
but until then,
take care
with equal parts love
and hate
your future lover

All I wanted was a cigarette.
We weren't allowed to smoke.
He knew where to go.

We swept sidewalks together.
Raked sand together.
Talked about life together.

His window was across from mine.
I think he saw me changing once.
Maybe more than once.

He was getting dishonorably discharged.
I didn't think he was a good man.
I didn't think he was a bad one, either.

It had been two weeks since I landed in Monterey.
I only wanted a cigarette.
He knew where to go.

I bought the Southern Comfort and bottom shelf gin.
He carried them with him to his room.
I didn't think anything of it.

We raked sand together.
We ate lunch together.
We watched movies together.

We sat on a makeshift bench by the ditch by the installation fence.
We drank and smoked and laughed.
I taught him Farsi and he taught me Russian.

Russian for "hello" and "goodbye."
Russian for "This is allowed."
Russian for "This is not allowed."

I think he saw me changing once.
He tried to kiss me on the cheek.
I told him no, my boyfriend wouldn't like that very much.

We smoked some more.
We drank some more.
We laughed some more.

It was 2130.
I had to be in my room by 2200.
He said not to worry, I'd be back in time.

I insisted and tried to leave.
I fell to the ground.
He didn't help me up.

I only wanted a cigarette.
He kissed me on the mouth.
I did not kiss him back.

I was immobile.
Paralyzed.
Drugged?

He kissed me again.
And again.
And again.

I did not kiss him back.
I had a boyfriend.
All I wanted was to smoke and drink and laugh.

He grabbed me by the ankles.
Pulled me over the ditch behind the army barracks by the installation fence.
I could hear soldiers coming back to their rooms.

I was paralyzed.
I always thought I would fight.
Fend him off with car keys stuffed between my fingers.

I looked up at the tree branches above me, my watch said 2147.
That was the last time I prayed to God.
There were leaves in my hair and dirt on my arms.

There was something less than a man between my legs.
It looked at me with hate in its eyes.
We swept sidewalks together.

God kicked back and swigged a PBR
     while I was ***** behind the army barracks,
     over the ditch by the installation fence.

He helped me up.
I couldn't stand on my own.
How sweet.

I vomited by a tree.
I was disgusted with myself and him and God.
I wanted to drown in Southern Comfort and bottom shelf gin.

He walked me to my barracks building.
How sweet.
I made it to my room by 2200.

All the girls watched me stumble down the hallway.
I was so violently alone.
Taps wailed outside the window.

I left my hat by the bench by the ditch by the installation fence.
He brought it to me the next morning.
How sweet.

20
seems like the end of the line
to me.
Car crashes, bad habits, white rabbits
will reduce me down to just a spec of debris
chillin' in a petri
                               magnified
                           by                   a giant
                        eye        st           aring
                             wi                 th
                                   disdain.
"Helicopter pilot? Yeah right"
hit me like the last thing through a bug's mind
when it splats.
                           Its own ***.
Switched my postion from
                                                s
              ­                                  t
                             ­                   r
                                                a
              ­                                  i
                             ­                   g
                                            ­    h
                                                t
A student

                                 p
to drop out flying u
Eyes down. Laying          to keep on track
                                  low
blinded, cataract, stepped out in traffic
                       splat
like that bug again
or maybe more like promotion
Brand New Adventure
                                                I've seen the way the world
                                                turns
     ­                                                      I don't want any p a r t

Numb nostrils,
jittery tongues,
swarming the cutting board.
Sharks, whose blood lust
shot off the charts
with the sight of one little baggie,
gnash their teeth
"Pour it out! Line it up!"
"Here's yours!"
"I can't feel my teeth!"
all caught on the reef
thrashing for another dose.
Who am I to judge with this
white gold
in my nose.