girls
and their long thin legs and flat tiny waists
surrounded by
boys
hands in their shorts pockets, trying to seem cool
my name is Steve, they say
but
through their smile they eye the prize
a pair of perky German *******
or French
or Venezuelan
it doesn’t matter
drift sick to the porch steps of a church
write poetry
look at clouds
pray for rain
pray tomorrow will be better
my God
please
let tomorrow be better

home decorating magazines say, avoid blue walls
instead, opt for yellow, sunshine, cheery
my mood matches the walls here
blue blue blue blue
four days
chin deep and alone
my companions I bought for thirty six dollars and change:
Bukowski, and some young unknown poet’s first anthology

I have starved myself for four days to begin loving my body again
today: one orange
shrunken and underwhelming without its peel
why is it? when I love myself I find
only contempt for the people around me

it’s stormed for four days
bone rumbling thunder
spiking veins of lightning
liquid bullets soak into my skin, pound into my bones

at night, I dream of becoming water

hey vanessa
i’m not vanessa
oh, i’m sorry i know who you are, it’s just
i’ve been drinking tonight and i am so sorry
no, it’s fine, i’ve been drinking too
i’ll vote for you to make it up
no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it, but thank you

he sits down next to me but not really

i stare at the pink box of donut holes
small grease stains, untied ribbon
boy, girl, empty room, empty house
chin in my knees
heart full of holes