I am often under the impression that old fashioned street lamps
The ones with eight sided glass and black ornate poles
Are strategically placed by the city planning commissioner's office
To let me know the wardrobe is just a few dozen feet away
And it will take me away from this Narnia
If I just open the door

My phobia of opening doors gets worse every time I think I've finally found it
Only to walk right into the girls bathroom after lunch
On five alarm chili day at the cosmetology school in Little Korea Town

I don't like watering the plants
It makes me wonder why mother nature fell asleep on the job
But the plants are always telling me the rain can't get them inside my living room
So I started the fire that the insurance won't pay for
And the chemicals in the emergency sprinkler system killed the plants anyways
It also killed the fish
But the insurance adjuster wore gloves
So he's still alive

I would make a pretty ****** politician
I get upset at people who don't make sense
Though sometimes I don't make sense
I also have a bad habit of doing the wrong things for the right reasons

I have found Waldo three times
He says hi
Carmen Sandiego is in San Diego
Which makes that trip to Cairo a really bad piece of detective work
On a related note Al Gore is Captain Planet
And every time I hear a bug zapper
I think it is the bat from Fern Gully
But it is not
It's a bunch of dead moths in a box
Monkeys in a barrel
That's how my mind does things
Every time someone say "it is"
When "it's" would be acceptable
I remember The Land Before Time
"This is fun, it is, it is"

You are welcome

Sometimes I’m anxious for you to leave so I can think about all the things we should be doing together. Like that the contours of your body would fit my curves perfectly.
Like that your ribs are smooth and defined.
Like our tongues moving together seamlessly.
I can imagine we’d laugh at the same things and be enamored with the same tv shows.
I imagine you and I lying in a bed of daisies listening to each other breathe.
Every moment I spend with you in reality only fuels my daydreams.
I study the way your lips move when you smile so when you smile at me as we cruise on the highway towards Sandiego—the smile is yours. I remember the sensation of your arm around my body as I run into you, so when your arms are wrapped around me as we lie under the stars of a foreign country—the embrace is yours. The sound of your voice is always running through my mind, so when you tell me I’m beautiful—the voice is yours.
You.
are truly something to behold, though I’m not sure of who you are.
I’m not sure I want to know.
I’m afraid that you won’t like vegetables.
I’m afraid that you don’t like to dance.
I’m afraid you hate books or are stupid or mean.
I’m afraid you’re more uncertain of yourself than the you I’ve been dreaming about.
I’m afraid you don’t like road trips and dream of living in a fancy house.
I’m afraid that you might be nothing like me.
I’m afraid of the possibility that we just aren’t meant to be…

A rose-window seldom resembles a rose
And we're taught that's okay.
An allusion will suffice
Where an illusion fails

And either is better than the third near-homophone.
The Carmen Sandiego of it all.

For if we cannot have the real thing
It's more fitting to sketch the bones from memory
Than to chase the world round
And only find its thorns.

The moon? Like a spotlight through the empty lines of
my bedroom blinds.
An orange dog below and snoring
with a black nose.
Shoes beside him, a flower purse, a brown backpack, and a white bear
with a red bow.
In a mug I picked myself, a cactus, low sand, and pebbles of SanDiego-beside upright and laid down books atop a chest of knobs made to look like a Christmas tree.
TODAY, the calendar says.
TOMORROW, the calendar says.
Where's TONIGHT? I ask.