Sweet baby,
split-pea soup.
croissant carbs,
sliced tomato,
onion crisp, and
spinach greens-
ooh avocado,
please!

look out the
kitchen window,
my dog's head in
the compost pit!
"LIBBBBBYY!"
homemade soup on the back-burner

******, scratch it,
there ain't even any
tomatos or onion to
throw on this french
bread!
ohh, but mama,
let's get real,
since when was
there ever any
money for all these
S.Pellegrinos!?

I'm not complaining,
and I know ain't
isn't a word,
but for Christ Sake!
Being home is always
wild.

To sit by the fire,
or to be a free-running
child?

I can't even make lunch
without getting excited,
and documenting my odd
life.

Could have made that Bumble-Bee-
solid white albacore,
or Skippy,
squeeze that Skippy-
it's the skippy you squeeze!
Figured I'd go a little
more home-made today.

How long will it be
'till Mama starts asking
for rent?

All those Doctor bills,
wild insurance-
you slay me!
Mental health,
Hunterdon and Rutland,
you really did me deep.
And to keep paying those
Doctor's with those degrees,
sheesh!

Rode my bike to the TDBank,
to take out the last of what I
had, for Mama.
Talk about hell on two wheels!

So now my choices can be narrowed-
Do I hit the restaurants and do
the night shifts, waitressing in
that filthy grease?
Do I get a portfolio and try to model,
without Mama's approval?
I sure do have one impressive
resume, but this state wants to
take my license away.

My student loans are
in over my head, here
at least there's a futon
and a warm bed.
Chicago means an air mattress and
Vegas screams something I can't really
be too sure about.

I guess it's true, home
is where the heart is.
Home is where my toes
are warm and where my lunch date,
Libby, never leaves my side.

This U-turn situation,
it's not so bad. Yeah, sure,
I was supposed to be in Utah,
canyoneering. And this New Year's,
I would have, should be, could have been
backpacking through Nepal-
a dream.
Sometime I just get a little sad.

So I'll read some books,
watch some films,
give Libby her beef-flavored
pain-killer pills,
and pray for a pretty little
white-christmas miracle.

my horoscope suggested making amends.
tired of replaying the same story in my head but unable to let go,
the words i need are lost in embarrassment -
stuck between hating myself and loving you.
it's the car crash i call my life and you're the star.
i don't want you to hate me,
i don't want you to love me,
i don't want you to remember me,
i am terrified you'll forget me.
never what you needed, always what you wanted.
when i don't think about it,
you creep up on me and the feeling of your skin brushing mine
makes my hair stand on end.
unsatisfying.
addicting.
i don't know how to apologize for pushing you away.
i know there's no going back
and know that leaving again is inevitable;
the date is circled on the calendar.
now just to figure out how to keep above water
with this weight on my shoulders.

O the mustangs stung like mosquitoes,
fast as lightning & thunderbolts,
liberators & fortresses,
hurricanes & tornadoes,
hell cats & bears,
invaders & dragons,
good grief Lord,
those mighty Gordons!

O wily foxes & quick lancers,
avengers & vindicators,
swordfish, barracuda,
some tuna, albacore.
Gladiators in the gauntlet,
zig-zagging & spitting fire,
spewing molten hot-lead,
bright-tracers in the night,
forever fighting
with their all their might,
bombing their daylights out
and into submission,
la morte, stone dead.

O they sank the Rising Sun,
'cause they had that *****,
battling against all wrong
& protecting only
what was right!

the albatross
is soon to find his way across
and in his busy claws

the albacore
a living mindful washed ashore
are we deserving more?

to you, who have not overcome this state
most any refuge might as well be lost
by now, by names, by numbers, carrying this weight
too late, don't wait, don't suffer for this noble cause
my albatross

until you meet
a deathly definite defeat
blow up the trees of dust
the clouds of wheat

until you find
a newly welcoming decline
protect these arms of yours
this heart of mine

must you inherit this unfading grief
that eats me up and secrets me inside
too late, don't wait, don't hope that it can ever leave
by luck, by force, don't think that you can ever hide
it will abide

my faithful guide

my coal black tide

my doubtful bride

keep up your fight