Tuesday, May 22

God Hates Shrimp

I wish I were so gullible as to believe the lies I tell myself.
I wish I were so wise as to not read so much into tiny words.
I wish I were so numb as to not feel the seer of hot.
I wish I were so talented a puppet as to move freely with no strings.

I wish you were so kind as to save me of these wishes.

We make plans. We clear dates, we clear wallets, we clear time. We get excited. We wait, we fidget, we anticipate.

We never do.

It makes those plans so easy to make. I'm going to buy a continant and fill it will lime green jello. I'm going to spend a summer in the Congo studying gorillas in their natural habitats. I'm going to meet the queen. I'm going to. I'm going to. Watch me go.

You went.

I'm still here, dreaming in anticipation.
And I miss you.

What if next time you don't come back?

Saturday, May 19

Megan's Law

Everyone always asks if we're together, and it's the most horrible feeling in the world when to have to say that we aren't.

Was all this so wonderful only because it was brief and stolen?

Monday, May 7


There is just so much to do.

I feel like I'm running a hundred thousand miles an hour, straight at a field of anti-gravity. The promise of being suspending in time and space when all of this comes to a rushing halt is what's keeping my feet pounding in rhythm on the cracked drought-weathered ground.

I hope I'm not disappointed.