If You Love Bukowski, Give it Away

He held a bag with something yellow
in one hand, and a book
in the other.
The bag was filled
with banana runts.
(I remember
you used to always steal
the banana ones from me.)
The book was Bukowski.
One of the many copies
of Love is a Dog From Hell
I had given away
over the years
had finally come
back to me.

I took them
and smiled.
No one had ever given
me a bag
of only banana
runts.

Furthermore,
I had never known
I wanted one.

Some nights
the sky cracks open
and the stars
rain down
all around.

The world
becomes beautiful
all over again
and you remember
with a smile
who you are.

Lies Can Only Do the Mile in Twelve Something

He didn’t read it
she tells me.

You’re an idiot.

The ash on her
cigarette has grown
long and she
doesn’t notice
it’s going
to
drop.

Never mind
the ash
or the note.

At thirty-four
I can run
the mile
in ten minutes
and a bit
of loose
change.

‘Now I’m Your Watch’

from Shopgirl:   3:36

I Want to Be Friends With Jill Scott

Jill Scott is so charming.

no lies… no lies… no lies… just love.

I got a message.
He confessed he was
unwell. There was love
won and lost
and he was sorry
he said
but he didn’t
have anyone else
to turn to.

I read it
and thought
about the person
I know him
to be.

I thought
about all
we had shared.

I thought
about the last
time I’d reached
to someone this way
and what had been
said to me.

I undressed him
of my judgments.

Before I was done
thinking
the email
updated itself.

This time he said
he was sorry.
I shouldn’t worry.
He had no right
to burden me
with this
because he’d never
been there for me
the way I’d
needed him to be.

I thought to myself
we’re all just
living
the best we can.

I hit reply
and began to type.

“Oh look, the ‘make everything better button’ was here behind the bookshelf all along”

image found at xkcd

baby, stay…

-Elliott Smith

‘Don’t Go Down’

‘I met a girl, a snowball in hell
She was hard and as cracked as the Liberty Bell
I got her to come on and move in with me
And I said I’d find a better place we could spend eternity
Don’t go down
Don’t go down
Stay with me
Baby, stay
Her mama called me a thief
And her dad called himself commander-in-chief
I fought him off with my love
But I knew the sense of worthlessness she’d have to rise above
Don’t go down
Don’t go down
Stay with me
Baby, stay
Don’t go down
Don’t go down
Stay with me
Baby, stay
She had a dream, woke up in shock
She had seen her own body outlined in chalk
I split the scene, the globe had been spun
And her ghost leaned down to kiss me with a message from the sun
Don’t go down
Don’t go down
Stay with me
Baby, stay
Don’t go down
Stay with me
Baby stay
Don’t go down
Stay with me
Baby, stay
Stay‘

love

a red dress
in the closet
sexy
beautiful
on the hanger

but

unflattering
in the mirror
every time
I try
it on

There’s Not Much Rage in a Lower Case ‘i’

Well coiffed women roll
their fluid hips through the darkened
room in expensive dresses
where expressionless faces
hold prop drinks
in one hand and clap
the best they can
against plastic cups
with the other.

There are poems
about people who write poems
or publish poems
or how no one publishes
what they should.

There are poems
about sex
or drugs
or doing drugs
while having sex
or fucking
and doing drugs.

One woman’s
entire collection of paintings
is made
of semen
and menstrual blood.

The pasty skinned
man with yellow fingernails
and expensive suit took
black and white photos
of women in bondage
and homeless people,
and politicians walking
and a police man
eating a hot dog.

The hardwood floors
are immaculate
and slick
but the toilet
is the dirtiest
I’ve ever seen.

I hike my skirt
and go
behind the house
in the dark
with the cat
instead.

smiling…