Date

I want this date to last more than hours

but you never even made it to the restaurant.

It is so fine with me, I would rather eat alone

and dip my fries in sauce and eat like a pig

and not be judged for using too many conjunctions.

I want you, I really do, but I am changing

every day into an evolved woman. Not yet

married, divorced, separated, cheated,

I am only a young girl wanting someone

who I can never have because then all

the morals written in my chest will be

broken. I will feel broken in this city

we can never see each other in. I already

see the future of Sundays turning

into every other day.

You are so close to my house

and even if you drive by

I will have aged like a dog.

You will have had a multitude

of women while I am hooked

on one life line. It is this way

for I drive my own car and

let no one guide me.

I know which walls to put up

and which ones to let you in

but remember a date is

just a time and place

when two people

either show up

or decide otherwise.

Either way, it’s a date.

 

 

 

 

Take

I want to give you what you ask for. I truly do

but all my shopping bags are full. Nothing for me

to buy here. No romance, no hope, no futile essence

sold in jars. I want to write you the most beautiful

love poem ever written, but that’s already been done

before.

Instead take my heart, I kept it wrapped up for you,

untouched, warm, full of soft beats, effects, sky dives

just for you. Yes, you wanted it and I say, take it.

I might write otherwise, but believe no poet’s words

until you kiss them off their lips. Believe nothing

until you read it in my eyes. Romance lives inside us

before the coffee, the sunrise, the putting on of the bra,

the makeup, the razor

it’s lying there

waiting for the lover’s alarm

to wake up

and pour some love

some hard sex

into its depths.

It’s so vast, you see, so structured

so enigmatically built that no one can

know the truth. I want you to love me

for all I am, but all you see is what I let you,

and all you give me are fragments.

Take it all or nothing at all. I live differently

think inside my head too much, love

without a thought, dream into a river

and float above the clouds.

This is the only way I can survive

before you wake up and tell me

how beautiful you are and special

before you pound your love at me

I am thinking that this rapture this title

of a poetry book

is just that.

Poems for hopeless fools like us.

See you anon

Writing a novel is such a task

words found somewhere on the bottom of a tin flask

one last drop to tie me over

give me luck with a fake four leaf clover.

The dead trees still live

on the icy snow

we pass the farms, the homes

trying to let the feelings go

but they knock

they hum

like the sounds of this train or a long lost battle drum

on a bumpy ride or a field of dead

drink coffee and hide

behind Gatsby’s bed

or samples of another book

about people I never knew

or ones that I want to meet

so I write

on this train

on my feet

on a chair

in my head

up the musical stairs

as long as I paid the fare.
Did you miss my words?

all these crying kids

buy sour cream and onion chips

and then the mirror on the taxi reminds

me of him

fills my head up with deceitful lights

take words and turn them into

the vast forest

spanning across our two provinces

flowing in and out of them as robbers do

trickery, lies and subterfuge

filled with sweet apple pies.

Show my boarding pass

I have 87% of Fitzgerald

can’t stop reading about Daisy

Tom and Jay

leave nothing behind

night has turned into day

your name on my lips

and hands tightly squeeze my hips

for the trees are whispering again

and I know

people like us

can only hear them

even from behind the glass.

I write the title first

it’s from the book

another route

and cable lines

keep us joined

stronger than poetry.

Grab my bags

I’m coming home

and I missed you too.