I understand it was forth of July,
Sipping whiskey watching the world fly by
But you didn't have to disappear
Like the colors at the end of the pier

-e.k. fm

A record spins, fast and smooth.
The music flows beautifully from the horn-
until there is a bump in the room.
The record is stuck,
with no escape to the next verse.
It repeats endlessly, until the listener
lifts the needle, so the record can
spin free again.
Life is a record, spinning wildly--
beautiful and fast at a constant speed,
until a problem halts the beauty.
It is stuck in a circle,
until the needle is lifted
and put back on track.

-e.k. fm

I grab the keys to my home on the go,
The place where I spent the last year-
on the road.

The year before is foggy,
just like the windows on my car,
one January evening. The passenger seat
is empty. I breeze by Archer Avenue, approaching
Ashbury coffee house, remembering smoking
American Spirit blues, and flipping cards while
not complaining about the bitter burnt coffee.
All my friends have moved away, but I still
look in my rearview mirror seeing mirages
of the people who were in the past.

In May, the flowers bloom again, I drive
on the open roads, which transformed in a tunnel
of luscious trees, and everything is finally green again.
My birthday rolls around, like it does year to year, but
someone new is beside me, this is so much different from nineteen.
The receipt I held on to since December fell out of my wallet as
I pay for more gasoline. That receipt is the only memento
I have left, from the night you met me.

July brings the sun, and the warmth that I needed.
I go for a drive, and the pavement is dry. The windows
are forever open in my car, and friends finally forget their
busy lives to go for a drive. last year, felt different, as we
have all matured. No matter how old we get, I think
we will always be friends, belting out that sweet catchy summer tune.

In October, I drive the most, thinking of how the year
is winding down. I sip on my latte, and look at my town.
I think about how one day I won’t just be hanging around.
So much has changed in just a short year, but the roads
have not. The passengers change season to season.
I reminisce about the past, but worry about the future.
Will these roads go on forever?

-e.k. fm

our parents were starting to worry
about what the future had in store
for the kids like us-
with after midnight blue Manic Panic
streaked through our hair and
our after midnight curfew.

we look at our friends, and
follow their lead, even though we
think we are anti-conformity.

pierce your nose, rip your jeans,
just buy a ramones shirt,
don't say please.

our parents says it's just a phase
oh, we will see.

-e.k. fm

torn jeans
dimples
station wagons
shifting eyebrows
eager hands

wry smiles
chapped lips
cheap beer
deep-set eyes
pirated music

hates his birthday
stoplight-kisses
star-gazing in cornfields
****** knuckles
broken minds

lanky limbs
poetry books
scruffy faces
jet-black coffee
calloused hands that still feel soft

adventurer's heart
jumping fences
midnight tokes
always gives you hickeys
always opens your door

worn sneakers
chewed pen caps
late for work
old windbreakers
dirt under his fingernails

omniscient smirks
expensive cologne
good intentions -
but is bad with goodbyes
hates himself for making you cry

broken cigarettes
aviator shades at night
a perpetually furrowed brow
and a laugh that sounds like autumn leaves as they crunch beneath your feet

m.f.

i miss you so much it hurts my whole body.
do you remember when we talked about going to seattle?
you said you liked the rain
and the fact that no one there would know you,
i just wanted to be wherever you were.
i was never afraid of the dark
when you talked about yours.
i still don't have words for what i felt
when you told me the only other number
you had saved in your phone apart from your mother's was mine.
i keep telling myself you're not allowed
to just exit and re-enter my life as you please,
but i leave the door unlocked,
so what does that make me?
the last "i love you" from the last time we spoke,
is still stuck to the roof of my mouth.
other lovers have tried to pry it out of me,
but the memory of you is like lockjaw.
i miss you so much it hurts my whole body.
do you remember the lizard you caught last summer?
you let me name him forrest.
if life is a box of chocolates,
there are pieces missing,
and whatever is left has gone stale.
i can't smoke cigarettes in my backyard anymore
without wondering where you are
or if you're smoking too.
i hope you're not drinking,
i know you hate what it does to you.
your secrets are still tucked between my ribs,
i will hold them safe and repeat them back to you
if you ever lose your way home.
i miss you so much it hurts my whole body.
do you remember when you told me
about the person you were afraid of becoming,
i said i wasn't scared,
and i told you i was proud of you?
i'm still proud of you.
i hope you're in school or at least keeping busy.
i hope you still make yourself laugh.
i miss you so much it hurts my whole body.
do you remember what movie we were watching
the night you got arrested?
i still can't finish it.
i am holding the place.
can we pick up where we left off?
can we stand up and wipe the dust off?
i never got to tell you why i only write in pen,
or why i can't sleep with socks on,
or about the day i caught god with his hands in a public fountain
fishing for change.
i'm not mad at you for disappearing, but i'm lonely.
the only reason i haven't called
is because i'm afraid of being sent straight to voicemail,
but if i ever find myself in indiana again,
you'll be the first to know.

- m.f.