you are gorgeously frantic
& too drunk to show your storm
so sit in peachy discontent
and drive the men mad
or eat tiny chocolates
for boys strike you a trifle bitter
and now i don’t even trust luis when he wants to give me free hot chocolate - it must be stale?
so i guess i see you as a person now, now
that i’m angry at your resistance to insist that
i’m a perfect sister. i don’t believe
everything that you believe and i want to show you that i love you (before i say it,
like thunder and lightning) so that you know
without my messy voice (come rain,
confusing things) it’s not a feeling (i write
for who i want to be) but it’s everything
(i want for you, i want to give for you,
even though you’re just like me)
even though you’re just like me.
well i make sense to me more than pancakes for dinner;
isn’t that enough? i live with me
and we talked about verbs, the bee’s knees,
so look at me - “as helpless as a kitten up a tree” -
people like me spend money on college classes like physics
Only to use the time to write poems about how
they’re fighting themselves. Or how
they hate poems Or how
stupid is stupid Or how
they don’t know the difference between thinks and love;
oh shut up. i try at it.
watch the spaghetti fall from the wall but really who knows when it’s ready; i like tomato sauce now and i’m tall but my fingers have been stabbed so much by exacto blades it’s like little wells and i still refuse to buy bandaids so i do
this thing where i wrap toilet paper around my pointer and hold it with a rubber band Hello i’m tall and i’m a mouse and your face is so telling and you doubting makes me doubting and NOTHING IN THIS WORLD WORTH HAVING COMES EASY
and i’ve never really got over a speed bump -
i slow down too much so i won’t hurt the tires;
should i have stayed behind my glasses?
in order to form a more perfect union,
i’d do most anything (everything) for you.
the 23 bus took my last nice pen
and the subway took my shoes;
if i say no will i fall down the stairs?
i trust you because you know who i’ve been.
my fingers smell like 2x4 and
i’ve got paint back on my face again.
it was when you answered the phone,
and you tucked my apologies under your tongue
and i realized that your neutral is happy.
it was when i saw you working one problem at the rock wall
and your approach was all or nothing,
like practicing music.
when we were sitting on your cold
bedroom floor, eating lunch,
and you were comfortable.
all things want to open,
but sometimes the mouth is the last place words want to be.
nothing in this world worth having comes easy
and when i’m in the deli i wish you could finish my sandwich
and share my cookie (something’s off)
if my handwriting turned to bubbles,
would you still dismiss my left eye? i admit
i’m a little diffuse but you’re a little grumpy (towards
grass but not trees, cats but not me) and i said
i want to drill a hole in my brain, and
take out all the crazy voices,
and she said but then you wouldn’t be you.
voices are for untangling.