Two dark eyes
Like two drops of warm coffee
Lips so soft, taste so sweet
My heart skips a beat.
You look real in my dreams,
Unreal infront of me.
That smile might be the impending death of mine.
Or cure me.
I don't care.
Don't care of this height if I'm falling for you.
Don't care if I lose you along the way.
These fleeting moments are enough when I'm with you.
Let's not chase forever.
Let's hold onto the seconds.
Perhaps we should freeze time
Like the freezing air.
Still life pictures of moments.
Don't you disappear now! No!
Let me hold your hands once
In my trembling ones.
Before I let you go.

We've been apart
now for a while, and
the pain has begun to
subside. But today, something
triggered it all fresh
and sharp.

I ran across some
pictures of your
****** that you let
me have.
It makes me sad
to look at them
for hours on end.
I may be reading
too much into the
three different views,
but in one of them,
your dormouse seems
to be whispering,
"I miss you, Thomas,
we had so much fun,
you and I."
In another shot,
the light hits little Jezebel
just right (she loved it when I called her that.)
And I swear it seems as though
she is pouting like she's sad too.
And the third picture is
the hardest to view of all.
It's in black and white
so it has that artsy film noir
look to it, like a sad French
mime. Quite artistic as far as
closeups of vajayjays go.
It has a fussy, pouty
look to it, with a twinge
of anger, as if to say,
"why did you break up
with that great poet who
idolized me, and took such glorious
pictures of me." It seems to be
beckoning, "Please take him
back, maybe if you do,
he won't drink so much and
disappear for days on end
with your car, and then come
back smelling of *****, and
old painted up ******."
It breaks my heart
to look at that one.
I'm almost crying as I write
this because Jezzy looks so sad, and
lonely, and a bit angry at
you for selling my collection
of baseball cards.

my friends are all laughing
and the weather has been kind
i am about halfway to happy

and it is okay if i look utterly
atrocious in every picture
you've taken of me

i hate my smile with passion
and almost all of the time
but i like to think that

my smile is most
beautiful and genuine
when it is mirrored

by yours

Scents of satsuma and cinnamon
bottled up into reminders of the little things
this blurred motion has created a mirage
of incomprehensible reasons
to forget our love for patience
from strings of silver threads
and sentimental alliances
woven into patterns of picture frames
completely blurred, alive in motion
together, a collage of all the times
stillness couldn't find its breath
and laughter took us by the shoulders
shaking and shaking
till we fell into a rhythm of remembrance
with all the little things
bottled up in an illusion of permanence

It’s Friday afternoon. Anna, Lisa, Leong and I are sitting around our common room - sagging actually - after a long day.
“I need a break,” I said, “now’s the time - today, this day -  it's been a long week.”  “Document,” Leong affirmed.
“Sometimes you gotta..” Anna faded out letting an arm flop like a dead soldier.
“Let’s go OUT to dinner somewhere,” I said, “my treat.”
“We can eat for free here,” Leong said.
“We might have to economize someday,” I said, a little annoyed, “but it won’t be today.”
“Can you believe we just came back less than a week ago?” Lisa asked.
“I can’t,” Leong said.
“It’s shocking,” Anna sighed, winding a ring of her auburn hair around her index finger.
“I’ve lived many lives since then,” I admitted.
“On Wednesday,” Leong began, “I was like, I feel like I’ve been here for weeks.”

“It’s coming up on time to leave!” Anna exclaimed.
“And leave for a WHILE,” Lisa undogged.
“I’m VERY excited to leave for a while,” Leong laughed.
“It’s going to happen,” I said, like a prayer.
“Then we can come back and be like, I’m glad to be here” Lisa said
“After you’ve been gone for a while, you DO miss it.” Anna admitted, shrugging.

A hot moment later, I asked Lisa, “Should I use this for a poetry pic?” Turning my iPad in her direction, “Yeah,” she says laughing. “My hair looks like I’m coming out of a cocoon.” I added.
“You know when you don’t have enough pictures for an Instagram post?” Lisa asked, looking critically through the pics we took last night. “Look,” she says, sharing them up to our 55” TV.

After a few, I said, “Lisa and I were talking about this yesterday,” turning to Anna and Leong, a little exasperated, “Lisa, has all of these pics of me with my underwear and it’s like..”
“Wait!,” Lisa gasped, NOT on purpose! That makes it sound.. don’t SAY THAT like THAT,” she laughs.
“And it’s just like.. you don’t need to share those,” I laugh, waving my arms.
“You’re making me sound like a *******..” Lisa snickered.
“I’m not a baby!” I hooted.

“They're not at ALL ******,” Anna noted.
“I’m not saying THAT,” I winced.
“When we're drunk, at home, snapping pix and we’re wearing these little dresses..” Lisa begins, “it’s not like I’m taking pictures of your underwear” she stammers laughingly.
“There are angles and there are angles where you see!” I point at the example on the screen.  
“We were drunk!“ Lisa said, “I wasn’t trying.. YOU were drunk too!” She said, counteroffensively.
“But you were CrAzY,” I laughed.
“Crazy,” Lisa laughed, “Yeah, anyways - why’d you have to say that? You took similar pics.” Lisa added, smiling knowingly.

“No one gets to see them,” Leong said, she’s new to Instagram and Lisa is usually her mentor.
“They do if they’re public,” I noted, pointing to the little icon.
“Shut up!” Lisa snapped, “I EDIT them before I post them - blur things or whatever!”
“Ok, I said, “We don’t need to do this now.. you brought pix up.” I held up my hands in surrender.
“Jesus Christ, merzy, murble flurble,” Lisa muttered, her voice fading out into incoherence.

“But If you wait, save the good picture for a dump - then, it’s too far away to post.” Leong said.
“Well, that’s not true, I don’t believe that.” Anna chirped in, “a cool pic is always welcome.”
“I don’t like dumps,” I said, “I don’t want to scroll through a ton of someone’s pix, it’s tiring.”
“If you’ve A cool pic or even one kind of cool pic, then everyone knows what’s up, Anna offered.
“Ethos 2024,” I pronounced.
“Post whatever,” Lisa updogged, as I dabbed my lips with lip gloss.
“Can I borrow your lip gloss?” Lisa asked me, rubbing her chapped lips.
“Sure,” I said, handing it over. Yeah, we argue like sisters but friendship involves nuance and shared understandings.

“Your parents are back in Ukraine - ya? Leong asked me, “Are you going to Lisa’s? (for Christmas)”
“It’s been agreed,” I confirmed, smiling.
“We gonna tear it UP!” Lisa laughed and we high-fived, smiling in anticipation.

Slang..
Document = true, fact

Regal, reserved;
Jaundiced youth.
Reasoning mad,
The mind of an absurd,
Without Camus, with no Kierkegaard.
Knowledge gleamed from living hard,
The blurred tatters of the patchwork memory,
Loose sense of self,
And fragmented morals.
Abuses have left their scars.
I know you hurt,
When you cut yourself.

Pictures, now, are strange to me
Once upon, what "is"
Has no "never be's"
Pictures, now, are strange to me

A snapshot back to a certain future
Laughter shared; tears, too
It precedes my doubtful memory
Pictures, now, are strange to me

Once upon, what "is"
Lives indefinitely
Unaware of what will never be
Pictures, now, are strange to me

Printed pieces of boundless time
Whose citizens are full of life,
Safe from looming trajedies
Pictures, now, are strange to me

Once upon, who "is"
Are now all ghosts
Free, from framed captivity
Pictures, now, are strange to me

She keeps saddest memories
Closest to her heart;
A death-like permanence
Keeping us apart.
Like X-ed out family pictures
In an album loosing pages.
She believes there were no good times,
Her memory's gone hazy-lazy.