her small greasy hands
search through your hair

groping for a look
she’s seen on tv

that rotten acorn mess
I loved to tangle

across your eyes
always far off somewhere

she looks like the girl I thought you wanted to be with
my friends say she looks like me

I bet she tells you stories
about girls she's slept with

I bet you read her
my poems and laugh

the two of you
surrounded by clothing and smoke.

moving my stuff
into a pile
in the corner