Outside lives a girl with a smile that will brighten up the room,
yet inside hides a girl with a frown full of despair.

Outside lives a girl with eyes of joy that bring you to ease,
yet inside hides a girl shedding tears of sadness.

Outside lives a girl with a beautiful laugh that's contagious,
yet inside hides a girl screaming her lungs out in unwanted anger.

Outside lives a girl with the personality everyone envies,
yet inside hides a girl full of insecurities and shame.

Outside lives a girl who is fearless and tough,
yet inside hides a weak girl who lives in fear.

Outside lives a girl full of life,
yet inside hides a girl full of pain, wanting to die.

Outside lives a girl with a perfect image,
yet inside hides a girl with regrets and mistakes.

Outside lives a girl of innocence,
yet inside hides a girl with tremendous guilt.

Outside lives a girl with goals and aspirations,
yet inside lives a girl lost in confusion.

What you see on the outside is my personal disguise.
What hides underneath, you can't even begin to imagine.

They came and took the dog away today
and they’re going to put it to sleep
because it barked, they say.
A lady dropped a dime in the checkout line
and no one stooped to pick it up.
She shrugged and said, “It’s just a dime.”
An old man on the bench in the park watched a kid run about,
tossing peanuts to the pigeons. The old man grinned
and waved and nodded and someone called the cops to check him out.

Some teens made a giggling trip to the mall
during the day, a school day, to shop for jeans.
In the food court they had burgers and a malt.
A woman in a minivan hurried into the grocery lot.
She never gave it a thought as she parked,
ignoring the sign for the handicapped spot.
An elderly lady sat in the library with a permanent pout,
not reading her book. She fell asleep and passed away
and for a day, a very long day, no one came to check her out.

They came and took the dog away today.
The veggie stand sold the last of the corn.
Winter came and took the leaves away.
Somewhere, someone was popping popcorn,
the smell hanging in the air like bacon frying
and in the hospital, another baby was born.
On the news they said an icy patch ended the lives and ride
of this drunken man and the girl whose car he hit.
We lit a fire today. It was cold, so very cold. Outside.

                                                                ­                                  a
                                                       ­                                     w 
                                                                ­                       a
                                        ­                                         &
                                                                ­          up            
                                        ­                            up        
                                                              up­                
                             up                                 
up                                                     
            ­down               
                                          down

The kite's high.
I give it more string.
I give it
All the string.
It takes off
And flies away
And lands
God knows where.
Goodbye!

The shuttlecock, served,
Goes over the net.
I'll probably lose
The dollar I bet.

Over the net
It goes back and forth:
It goes north to south,
And it goes south to north.

The birdie in flight
Flits like a sparrow.
She hits it so hard
It darts like an arrow.

I smack it as hard
As I can possibly smack it,
And, wouldn't you know it,
It's stuck in my racquet.

I toss the sack.
It's kicked around.
I get it back.
We get a hack.
It hits the ground.
'Skeeters attack.

the leaves sway and catch sunlight
and i catch both against my cheek
and chase them down to my throat,
crush them into each other into me
into chamomile: a trickling summer

i drown in sword-shorn grasses and
in return for breath they write on
my skin in languages that have never
been spoken, only sung only felt
only studied with one dirt-painted
fingertip, fine hairs punctuating
pink brown imprints of trodden earth

ants count dozens of steps, climbing
the winding train tracks (and rocks
sleeping beneath) of my wrists legs
nose and untraveled stomach, and i
let them travel; let my body be gravel
become highway become interstates to
ugly and restful towns diners hotels

and even as sunlight burns my eyes
and bobcats stalk past forests beyond
the reach of my oven-warm wind-wound
open palm, ground allows its drinks to
seep into my sweatpants desert skin
and curls: an oasis i carry on my back