I enjoy sitting in coffee shops watching business men be busy
Drinking burnt coffee
Watching my leg hair grow
noticing that my pits stink
Watching people fight over booths that have an electric outlet to plug in their laptops
Which is funny because I'm writing this on my cell phone while everyone assumes I'm texting.
Well, at least I know that I'm not.

i aint got no money
but we can shove each other into the pool fully clothed.
or we can kiss each other with smoke tasting breath
and we can watch those bugs devour that tree
we can play truth or dare until four am, when you fall asleep wearing my *******
or we can walk around town for a while and i can listen to you remember things.
i can put some music on and you can swing me around
when it gets more chilly, i can pinch your ******* through your shirt
we could count my freckles.
that would keep us occupied for hours.
i could write you poems
and you could listen to me read them to you
you could read me lord of the rings.

i could cook you tofu
and you could show me some of your favorite songs
even if they make me want to throw up, kind of.
we could get sunburned together
i could tell you jokes about dinosaurs.
(what do you get when dinosaurs crash their cars?
tyranosaurus wrecks)
i could tell you about my favorite christmases.
or can we please just pack a picnic to eat on the carpet of my room
pretending that it's not actually raining outside.
I'd like to learn how to say i love you in different languages.
we could lay in that patch of wildflowers next to the grocery store on Rice Street.
i've always wanted to do that.

pit in my stomach like a punch to the ****** the room fades away and things become blurry my eyes lose all focus and my feet lose all balance i gracefully sink into the floor

tiny asian girl toddler with dark bouncy pigtails
holding hands with her mother

trips, falls.

face hits floor.

blood drips from nose

little red circle drips on the tiles of Costco
in the middle of a monday afternoon

the
      smoke
         fills his lungs
           like a smokestack.
                   the butts litter
                             ashtrays like
                    little potholes of ash
           throughout
                        his room.
              stacks upon stacks
          of the disgusting things,
brownish yellow- just like
           the **** on his
                            teeth.
                              
                                 his
                            breath
                                smells
                               and tastes
                                      as if you were
                                 lying facedown
                            on the hot
                              pavement, tongue
                            to the ground
                      gravel, dirt and gasoline
         on your tastebuds.
                  he burns
                             he yearns
                          for the fix.
                   when he works on his car
                       in the hot sun,
                             his fingers shake
                   unless he's
        holding a smoke.


                                           And every day when she comes home
                                            she kisses him full on the mouth and
                     breathes
                            
                          it
                              
                           in.

coping mechanisms

like sleeping far too much

and distracting myself with anything i can get my little hands on




I wait for you
to pick me up
into you

into your warmth and your body

and hold me like a child



because this sweater doesn't smell like you anymore
and this house seems so empty


i only have the cat
and a melting snowman to keep me company

she's the girl that drinks too much coffee


the girl with the long skirts

she's the girl that looks through you, blankly
(when she's looking into the thing you don't want her to see)


she is the girl with sticky fingers.


the girl with honey love colored eyes



she's the girl that wonders who wrote all that mean stuff on the bathroom wall
who is becky?
why is she a gootch?

...what is a gootch?


she's the girl that has hair like
silk
halfway down her back

it covers up her spine
which pokes through her sweaters

and sometimes her overalls.


she's the girl that gets up early and stays up late
because she thinks sleeping is a waste of life



she's the girl

that begs you

with a single look

to love her



for as long as you can

and when you don't anymore,

let go


she's the girl
that will

understand.