Too slutty, too fat.

He is insane
the voice on the the other end
says
What reason could he
possibly have
for not falling in love with you

Your guess is as good as mine

and I've got a thousand

Around him I am

harsh
obtrusive
loud and
stubborn
desperate
needy
and drunk

what's not to love

when I'm by myself
and I bring myself to the point of
implosion
through battery operated means
there are days when
the tears come

because I'm half imagining
him holding me
and half feeling the shame

of not being

virginal
quiet
demure
and rejecting
enough for him

and after these years
I still haven't found my way
out

Acid Free Paper

It happened again
The day after Thanksgiving
On Kevin McKiddy's bedroom floor
Matted brown shag and cigarette burns
Gave way to
Carpet burns and cheap lingerie
Too long unused
And wrinkled by hours of separation

Headed west twelve hours
In the middle of the night
Sparkling moonlight tears
Of hope and desperation
Landed on a mattress on the floor
In a borrowed room
Feet aching, exhausted
Twenty in my pocket
A picture in my head
And seventeen nauseating weeks
That passed too quickly

And February was upon us
I traded that mattress in for another
On the south side of town
Six hundred square feet
Of fire and brimstone
And an exam table
We spent the rest of our days
Pacing like prisoners
Enclosed and alone
Angry for what we had lost
And fighting springtime