Sunday, June 20, 2010

He Drinks Cider and Brandy

I carry your photo in my wallet
Just so as not to mix you up
With someone you should have been.

Federal forms ask for your information
And for the answers to questions
You wouldn't even understand.

And that's OK.

I've stopped responding to inquires
And concerned looks from "adults"
With tears and sobs and heartache.

From now on, I'll just shrug my shoulders,
Ignore dates on the calender,
And say, "My dad's not dead, he's just an ass"

Thursday, June 17, 2010

She Drinks Rum and Cokes

I've got the sun and the sea in my closet,
But I still can't shut my eyes at night,
Or relax the curvature of my spine
For fear of the opening door.

Maybe we were born this way:
Worry eyed and twitchy fingered.
As natural as this may be,
I've never seen a girl cry in the wild.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

I'm Sorry, Roommate/Friend.

I had already handed my ticket to the man by the ramp,
Shuffled the hallway until I found my room,
And stored my bags and heartfelt trinkets below deck.
But I still found myself standing on the dock,
Staring at the ship as the other passengers yelled,
"Hurry up and come on board! We'll be leaving soon!".
I said, "I know. Just take care of my things and make sure someone gets them.
If you wish to find me if or when you return,
I'll be sitting in my same puddle,
Counting the flies that touch my water's surface."

Friday, June 11, 2010

They Said This Life Would Catch Up To Me

It's not as if I don't have other options,
It's just that I don't like to be yelled at,
Though I'm not really sure who would do the yelling.
All uncertainties aside,
I know that my back hurts
And it's hard to take deep breaths.