August 31, 2010

You Say Rolls, I Say Royce

The shirt you wear is a potato, full of starch

I am bending with my head in your car door window
kissing you a twelve year goodbye

Your corduroy shoes are hesitating o'er the pedal
and I realize that goodbyes are not:

"I'll call you once I get there."
"Be good. I love you."

or even the screech of tires on fading concrete.

Goodbye was the moment I realized you were rolling up the glass with my head still inside your car, feet on tiptoe outside the door.

August 24, 2010

Juiceboxes, Nudist Colonies.

lunch (I don't sit with you)


hunch (You won't make eye contact with me)

August 21, 2010

Fight #763

The thunder sounds like another voice
Yelling at me.

August 18, 2010

When God Closes A Door...

What happens if there are no windows?

August 8, 2010


Jane put her suitcase under the bed.
The Gardenia Dress was still too big.
Her walls were still purple.

The lavinder cat purred,
and Jane addressed him solemnly:

"It is not time for the palingenesis yet, Demiurgus."