I Don't Like to Call it a Boy Problem...
when he unscrews his scalp,
i'm going to flick a paperclip into his brain,
and make his love go everywhere.
he's talking about a girl,
taller than a bookshelf.
how he wound his arms
around her legs.
his hair slithers away,
as i reach out to touch it.
i think i'm building myself to last.
but we'll see.
i got cranky,
stood on the fire escape.
my brother sounded worried,
but he said
getting sick would be good for me in the long run.
i'm mad at you because
i made a fool of myself.
and i would never let you make a fool of yourself.
How's it going...
nothing's happened for awhile.
except a couple of dead leaves flew at my ankles,
while i was trying to buy a mop.
today,
all i have to do,
is unslash my bike tires.
Weekends...
out for a walk,
my welfare seems tilted.
i don't like the puppy or the women in the racetrack bar.
slugging, melting evening traffic.
on foot, i am winged against it,
waiting for the pinch of an angel.
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