My new favorite poet is a fifteen year old girl.
Margaret is clever it's astounding.
I knew youth was coming like this but usually when I saw it up close they we're just these maniacal computer wiz kids but this girl seems to party.
I hope she meets Alex Turner someday.
I hope she meets Andrew VanWyngarden too.
I don't know why, but I guess it's because they're dashing and she deserves the best.
I hope the world don't tangle her up too much and don't sit on her like a fat bully.
I know she can dodge it though and we need her and her vision of peace like a checkpoint.
My favorite new poet is a fifteen year old girl.
Shine on Margaret, light up the world.

Sweetheart you are so scared,
But I am too.
We have been through so much
But have yet to kiss in public.

Darling don't be afraid,
Take my hand.
Together we are strong
No matter what they think.

Princess please,
Trust that we can.
I love you,
Isn't that enough?

Angel answer me,
I know you can hear me.
Please don't ignore me,
I don't know what to do.

Baby be mine,
don't leave me.
Love is not a crime
We were so beautiful together.

Lover look at me!
What is so wrong that you can't bear to be around me?
Is it that I am a girl?
The same gender as you?

Honey how could you?
Turn your back on me!
Pretend our love never happened!
I miss you more than you will ever know.

on our way home
driving through driving
rain and sleet
soft rock eighties mix
saving us from talk
Lazlo sitting in the back
lost in himself.... he has decide to travel for awhile
and is borrowing our R.V.

he closed up the house,
fostered out the indoor plants, gave the garden care
over to neighborhood friends, the carkeys too.

it has been a long battle,
and he just needs time...
that is not accountable to
anyone.
he has agreed to touch base
once or twice a week... but
other than that, he has no
plans.
l have to believe he will be okay... a good sign is he has packed his cameras and  laptop so will continue to
film and write as and when he can.

we ben and i are aching to see our boy tod....he grows
moment to moment these days

we are coming home....
driving through driving
rain.

the thought comes to mind
laz is running away from
a broken home, hoping to leave grief behind....

I don't know what to write,
because my mind is white.
A walk would be in order,
to get thoughts out of disorder.
As I'm trekking through the forest,
I get an idea! A florist
who goes to Vegas
and...encounters writer's block.