there's nothing wrong with just a little fun

What I meant to say was,
grab me by the wrist, lets drive until
the only lights come from your dashboard,
honey what I mean is
take me away, I want to rest my chin
on your chest and laugh, I want
to throw my head back into the drizzle
of three in the morning,
What I meant to say was
I am unsteady
but I am ready.

Wednesday

Today I decided that
You treated me wrong
And that
Maybe,
If I nestled my head deep enough into
The early December morning,
You would never find me.

Porcelain

Sometimes she felt
Like a porcelain doll in his arms,
The hollowness consumed her.

Blues

I stepped
outside today, the iced-over world
frozen hard,
and cried for a moment or two
on the shivering wooden boards of the front porch.
And I spoke to you,
my breath mist and my voice watery,
I asked you what you thought you were doing,
and if you were mean or just
scared.
I asked you so many questions and
you didn't answer.
Not a sound, only
the dripping roof and the dripping eyes and
somewhere, far away, a silent sigh.

When the lights went down

When the lights went down in the city,
I sat on the cold window ledge in my sweatpants
and tried to find the moon,
somewhere above, my neck stretching,
but all I could see was blackness.
And then I cried,
thinking of you all alone in your big dark house,
stretching your dark eyes to find the moon.

Lone

In the darkness of December mornings
when uncertainty ate at her
and hot showers weren't enough,
she wished for him.
But he never came.

Stain

And honey,
sometimes bleach just won't do it.
You were always
stubborn as Thursdays,
now baby,
won't you let Friday come?

Lullabye

In order to sleep,
last night,
I counted the freckles
on the bridge of your nose,
your eyelids moved with silent adventures.

Cake

My mother baked a cake
one day, the other day,
and the house was heavenly
ad the kitchen was warm.
I spread the frosting thick and sweet
cut through the layers
took a bite
and thought of you.

Prince Charming

The afternoon he told her it was over,
she wandered through a Christmas tree farm.
Smelling of the season, the cold gnawed at her
exposed nose, stabbed at the ends of her fingers.
She lost count of the rows and
ended up playing hide-and-seek:
he hid while she searched.

101

What she learned in school was
it’s all about the lighting.
Sometimes he saved her and
sometimes she stayed up late at night,
sewing the splinters
back together by candlelight.
Some days it was macaroni for lunch and
she cried, under the spotlight
there was only black and white.

Art

Some days she had control issues.
she wanted to create him, she wanted
to sculpt his eyebrows and touch his lips with
pastels and rearrange the wild windiness of his hair.

for Amanda

On the day of your mother’s funeral
I sat staring at the ribs of the church,
arching wooden grace that spoke of things
higher than us.
Some days you cannot get warm.
The tears freeze on your cheeks, your lips
tremble blue, your toes are white.
Looking up and away from you
I found hallelujah in the curve of the ceiling,
the space, the air and her heart
contained in smooth wood.

In the Fiction Aisle

One day browsing in the bookstore
I came across your heart,
misplaced, slightly squashed but still
fully intact.

Story

Once upon a time there was a face
In the clouds, I saw it there, Picasso lips
And eyes like dinner plates, newly washed.

Drain

Drain me like a bathtub,
dirty water and suds, wash the stench from
my hair, I don’t care,
scrub me raw.
Shocking, isn’t it? Like broken eggs on the floor,
when they begin to sizzle,
When your grandmother gives you a cigarette,
When some kid spits in your face.
Check your messages, its all there,
meandering tape, scramble the voices,
Lavender soap from your mother’s shower,
pick up the dry cleaning.
Come back here young man,
I’m talking to you.

ChinaPond (july)

You there, across the lake
Can you see?
Are you looking out your gigantic picture window?
Do you see her, a pinpoint,
There on the end of the dock
Standing next to the yellow banana
Of an overturned kayak, the girl
In a black bikini, red popsicle
Dripping down her right elbow.
The light is eerie, the rain sweet and soft
The sky rolls syllables around in his mouth,
Trying to decide what to say
To the east, the sky flashes occasionally with far-off lightning.
When she was little, the girl
Used to think of metaphors for these storms,
God is angry, angels are crying.
Now she does not care about the emotions
of celestial beings,
she is merely enjoying the overlapping ringlets
on the pewter surface of the water,
the surprised “o”s that the droplets
make when they land in the water.
She is slightly sunburned,
freckles dot her nose and cheeks.
She is letting the rain roll down her back,
Bead up on her calves

Pringles

In the back of the station wagon
they ate Sour Cream and Onion Pringles.
The salt burned the corners
of their smiles.

Soulmate

Sometimes, late at night,
she would whisper stories to the star-shaped pillow
beneath her head
by the glow of a lone streetlight.
She thought that she would be an ideal person
to share a bed with:
quiet, still, warm.
And good at telling stories.

Strip My Mind

When all that was left
were the tiny tack-holes in the wall,
he smiled her and said
Now we can begin.