this party sux.
the boy who invited me was my first boyfriend
in ninth grade and i still want to make-out on his parents water bed.

i shuffle out into the cold air, carbon-dioxide puffs visible as i exhale.

i make my way to the apartment complex where i used to *** cigarettes from Jeff
- floor 3, room 57, shaggy, enjoys Jose Gonzalez tunage.

laying on my favorite bench,
with my hair falling over the sides to the sidewalk covered in gum
that now looks as black as the cement roads,
i take a visual photograph
~ aesthetical phenomenon.

i save this stargaze.jpg into my file entitled,
‘show me something memorable when i get Aspergers’.

inside i hear shrill cheering and glasses clinking. it must be midnight, already.
a tingle of relief runs down my spine. i’d rather spend my first few minutes of the New Year focused on the one thing i put above most.


the universe and i have developed
interpersonal secrets, theories, stories, feelings, et cetera.

he knows everything about me. i know nothing of   him.