as these days fade out, blackness into blue,
that summer teenage feeling washes in again
like a tetherless existance
like weighing in at zero with no foresight to the next second
thick bass strings
thick sunscreen
thick pain in the stomach from junkfood and excess

adapt to the dried soda stickiness in the webs of your fingers
the constant cuts and the salt that settles in them
you and your difficult girls with one note of behavior
become tiring so quickly
become familiar too fast

there is no fear of death behind their eyes,
just uncertainty,
brash and unsure explosions from some thoughtless place
sugared up with a smile, a long-practiced laugh

my days of pools are coming, skateboarding on concrete,
warm nights in parking lots,
fructose juice drinks,
apartments owned by some removed acquaintance

days of wasps and lizards overpopulating the porch
heat and sweat and stinging skin
short dresses
desert nights

where will your memories fade
of some lip-glossed girl,
so unknowable,
into the same hot sidewalk days of your youth?

(poor girl's lament in a time of economic recession)

i've felt your lips in my dreams,
rested my head in the curve of your neck,
moved through the stages of talking
and trust
and fingertips on your shoulder
and my hand beside your face

real life is stagnant
a glass tunnel out of which
i watch the world
and you
i cannot be heard
can barely be seen
and i staunchly ignore your existance

you are mine only in dreams
we are lovers, friends,
castaways on deserted roads,
where i know,
have an unconscious feeling,
that in waking our eyes rarely meet
and i am far from smiling with you
or feeling your lips against mine

i am too weak for this world of boxes and crates
too sensitive for your barrel women with skin like burnt pork
with voices like toads screaming for thicker mud in a downpour
too young and scared to fend off those who were raised
in smokey rooms with broken-bottle floors,
on cold park grass, wondering about cigarettes and knives
and the mating habits of birds

where is my man with a title and inheritance
to pay for my home, my food,
my paper
an old philanthropist to leave me a house
to leave me alone
to write my poems

shower

body of a blue-collar working girl
skin too pale, bruises
muscles in the wrong places
fair proportion except for the bony knees and narrow hips

water so hot it sucks away your breath
the only time it gets like this: the middle of the night
when no one's flushing the toilet or washing dishes or doing laundry
steam rises from your skin outside the bathroom
poison leaving the body

what mistakes have you made
what bathtub executions await you as restitution
as penalty for your unspoken sins

half-dried hair
blood frozen beneath translucent skin
questions made to haunt you
to leave you blinded by your imperfections

night

Ghosts pass by in parking lots
Lonely reminders of everything missing in the purgatory
Of gas stations and pay phones
And hot neon lights on cold foggy nights

Before you were born,
Trees rose up beside highways
And there was no chaos
Between people and reality

Now I look out at wet asphalt
Dying bricks, struggling wires
I see your life in all of this
Just like the lives of every forgotten ghost
Left like cigarettes to soak up rain

i am haunted by the eternal ghosts of this city
and the ghosts of my dead ancestors
and the ghosts of my unborn children

somewhere down the line someone might forgive me
for looking too intently and ignoring what i see
and taking things i don't want as payment for things i've lost
but it won't be anytime soon

life is heaven and hell and purgatory
and when we die there is nothing left
there is no way to measure or experience eternity

masses in the distance
pumping their white smoke into the sky
an offering to whatever gods still exist in the vast infinity of space

what qualifies as success
when we have all exploded from the same piece of dust
and we will all implode into it again
and there will be no
"good job"s
or certificates
or buildings pumping white smoke
or even white smoke?
what will you tell your mother
when you fail?
when you implode?

d

blood burning in restricted arteries,
a lightness in the chest
like too much air
like too much smoke
dizziness and nausea in the throat

i met you once and planned out our future
in dreams and sweaty-palmed anxiety
my thoughts directed our actions
like mind control or telekinesis
like just wanting something could make it come true

i couldn’t wait but there was so much holding me back
i gave you over to alcohol and lonely nights
of isolation and hunger
and missed something about you that had nothing to do
with what you said or who you were

i didn’t get to have you but i made it close
and cancelled the low rise of feeling in the heart
the slow desperation and confusion in the heart