lifeline

I’m sorry. I saw the drowning
look in your eyes – the one
I know so well from
the inside out, the one that says
everyone thinks everything
is fine but it’s not okay, I’m
not okay
– and didn’t throw
you a lifeline. I know
how it feels to be the only one
in the room who’s holding
on to a grudge because it’s
been with you so long it feels
like a part of you, so that to
let it go would mean losing
something of your identity,
even though everyone else thinks
you’re punishing the person
for old dead deeds and why
can’t you just get over it
already. you can’t. you’re
not ready. you might not
ever be ready. and he doesn’t
deserve your forgiveness.

you warm yourself
by the fire of your hatred.
I know.

hello old friend

it’s been quite a while
since our paths have crossed.
you seem different
than how I remember you –
smaller, shabbier, and sallower – but
I don’t think you
actually changed. it’s more
that I see you with new eyes.
I’ve changed, and
what used to fascinate me
no longer holds the same appeal. I’m
not sorry, because
we were doomed anyway,
and I no longer need or want
there to ever be an us.
I’m glad that I can now
appreciate what you can offer
as a friend, instead of
languishing over someone
who could never have
been more than that.

the drop

my roof had sprung
a leak, dark droplets dripped
down onto me and
my bed. I had
stayed up all night and
was struggling
to sleep with this damp
and dripping
situation happening. so
I called the super, spread
some plastic down next
to and on top of me, and
passed out. hours later I
half-woke to the sound
of footsteps on the roof,
and hoped that someone was doing
something.

Continue reading the drop

robins

why am I suddenly
remembering that time
last winter when
we went for a walk
around the reservoir
and I’m pretty sure
you ogled my butt
when I came downstairs
in leggings and a normal
length tshirt and
it was bitterly cold and
I complained nearly
the entire walk
except when we saw
all those robins hopping
and bopping in the dead
trees and grass next
to the path and
I stopped dead
in my tracks and exclaimed
“Robin Redbreast! look
how many of them! oh
they’re so plump and
cute! how I love them!”
just like a real
manic pixie dream girl
but I really could have
watched them all day
and then we stopped
at Starbucks on the way
back to my house
and you had a long
blonde or grey hair clinging
to you and I removed it and
it was your mother’s
and then I got an unsatisfying
sandwich and when I
got home I found
my period had started?

Ouija II

who is that girl
who let so many
people beat her up?
we’re so ashamed of her, no wonder
she won’t come forth
to tell her story. have I met her
yet, is it someone
I know? where did she go?
come out, come out
wherever you are. olly-olly
oxenfree.

use the planchette
to spell your name. we’re
doing another roll call.
don’t bother knocking on the table
or making the candles
flutter, we need it
in words.

who’s the girl
who taught herself to read
at age three, who still vividly remembers
the Richard Scarry book
with the picture of Lowly Worm,
she felt so incredibly sad
when she read those words
but didn’t know why
until many years later, because I
was a lowly worm,
crushed under mother’s heel
for so long. how the hell
did that child even know what
“lowly” meant? come, tell us.
even the worm must turn
and have her day.

a temple in the moonlight

remember that time,
last summer, I think, or maybe it was
more towards the fall,
after that group dinner, when we
sat in the park
and talked for hours?
our mutual friend came with us
but he left fairly quickly
and then we were alone.

we talked about politics,
if I recall correctly. remember
that little temple that looked so mysterious
and romantic in the moonlight?
I think I said the former
but not the latter. I was too
shy. apparently
so were you. or you didn’t
notice.

it’s a moot point now, but
for your future reference, when you’re
alone with a girl
in the moonlight
and she says she’s
cold, that might be a cue for you
to put your arm around her
if you so desire. and if she mentions
how beautiful the scenery is,
while staring longingly
at the moon, she might be wishing you
would man up and kiss her.
if you had the sense
god gave a flatworm, you’d know
that. or maybe you just lacked
the inclination. I guess I’ll
never know, but I’ll always remember
that night and how magical it was,
how it seemed filled
with endless possibilities. if I knew then
what I know now, I’d
probably remember it
quite a bit
differently.