tchaikovsky's violin is so emo --- no,
it's sylvan undone, or
it's sylvia plath in
the hot seat
this isn't me being cheeky
-as if my jowl were up against that cold oven rack-
it's, obviously, me acting out, me being difficult, me wanting your
attention
ahem
i once got off to her in the school library bathroom stall
her Words
were hands that day
and i came unrequited blackberry skies
i sometimes wonder if
she hadn't realized, just then, how silly it all reallytruly was
and that -that- realization was a place she could, finally,
get to
and
in the sudden rush to pin it down with chikoffskii violins that wept syntax tor,
she bumped her head upon attempting to get out
and she was
going
to sing
i mean really sing
for you
too
dm micklow