Loud repetitive noises drive me crazy.
Also the feeling of dry sand between my toes.
That and the last sip of any bottle of alcohol
Are what remind me of you.
It's not my mind that catches on first.
It's my skin and my ears and the very back of my tongue.

You're somehow still hiding there.

I'm sitting here in a club that's very
Well it's dark,
But it's not a place for women.
And who knows,
I think it might be the thirties.

I'm surrounded by men,
All in impeccably fine suites,
I'm drinking countless martinis,
I never have to light my own cigarette,
I know this is what I do every single night.
Everyone fawns over me.

I know that I'm very powerful.
I have the power of a man.
So I act like a man.
Not *****,
Just unashamed.


Maybe I have a rich father?
That sounds right for the time.
I can tell that I am very powerful,
I already know that I am
"Breathtakingly gorgeous".

Everyone eats out of the palm of my hand,
I am fun.
I am free.
I am the untamable soul.

You know?
The one they right novels about.
The one that "got away",
Because she was a song bird,
And one that wouldn't fit in her cage.

And I am to be a married woman.
Someone will disburse my power.
I will become a miserable housewife.
I will have four children.
I will bake apple pies,
I will let my husband
Please himself using my body.
I will help with church bake sales.
I will drink.
I will drink.
I will drink.....

Darling, I'm drunk again.
No surprise here.
And I can read those words again.
I can't believe how much of myself
I told you about.
And how I probably know
A good amount of lies
About you too.

But that doesn't change anything.
The queen hibernates, darling.
But she does die.
I didn't go anywhere.

I have this dream that I'm a failed 1940's housewife.
And I can't get this image out of my mind.

I swear I left the iron on,
The sink is overflowing,
The roast it burning,
The twins are crying,
The washing machine is pouring out suds.
And my husband gets home....
It's a mess.

He tries to put me in my place,
Apparently I must be submissive.
He tries to **** me in the kitchen
To prove his possession of me.
I yell and scream and
When he doesn't stop....
The knives were just.....
Too close to my end of the counter.

My lawyer pleads insanity.
I just plead.

Growing up,
I had actually planned on being very rich when I grew up.
I did not know where this money would come from,
I just knew that I would have boatloads of it.
I would actually plan out,
How I was going to spend,
My ridiculous amount of cash.

One thing I wanted,
Was to give my children,
A separate $100 a week allowance,
That they had to use to help people.
I made a list of 5 suggestions.
And I just found it at my parent's house,
Last week.

1. Go to a sandwich place and buy twenty sandwiches and hand them out to people on the street.

2. Go to a blanket place (in the winter) and buy twenty blankets and hand them out to people on the street.

2. Save up for ten weeks at a time and then pick a different animal shelter each time, to give $1000 of dog food and dog things to them.

4. Buy a homeless person 20 nights at a hotel room.

5.  Keep the money, and you get grounded because you’re rich and other people are poor and you don’t need money.

Collin is still four.
If you haven  read any of our poems,
In my collection "Son",
You would know that Collin is my little ghost baby.

Collin is four,
And my absolute pride and joy.
Tiny ghost hands,
And a tiny heart beat.
I kind of like,
How he isn't going to grow any bigger.
We moved yet again, this September.
To another state completely.

Collin doesn't mind.
He quite likes Rhode Island.
He likes the train station
And the little ghost girl who lives there.
He now wants a sister,
Of course.

But she's only three,
And I didn't just find Collin,
He chose me.
I just wouldn't know how to go about it.
So we'll see.

I know that time is an illusion,
A man made concept,
And anything else
That terrified and pretentious philosophers
Say to make themselves feel better.

But there is no ******* reason,
That four days with you,
Feels like two hours.
And two hours away,
Feels like half a century.

No ******* reason.