I used to want to be the wind because
it had a way of rustling you
when I couldn't even make you budge.
Don't fall for boys with curled lips billowing smoke
into the air
because they won't catch you in their smoke rings.
Just like dream catchers
never caught my bad dreams
and I dreamed of you every single night.*


                                               j.g

I once was a cowboy king
and the American desert was
my playground.

My kingdom was my mind
and then it was free
to wander in the grass.

I smoked false cigarettes
made of sugar and chased
invisible horses.

The waves washed over my feet
and they sank into
the wisdom of the sand.

I built for myself a meager
castle with a moat
so I could stand above it.

The fluorescent corridors were
my stomping-grounds
and the servants stared.

No door could hold me
for I bore the royal hall pass
on my belt loop,

right beside my Crayola revolver.