To the Guy Making Kissy Faces in the Parking Lot


Dear Kissy Face,


I reject your proposal.

I will not smile and nod and pretend that its cute.

It isn’t. We both know you aren’t really interested in me.

You want me the way a five year old wants

the sparkly red heels in the thrift store window.

She knows they won’t fit and only in the mind

of that five year old can she wear them with anything.

I don’t want you either.

The man of my dreams won’t whistle at me across a parking lot or

blow kissy faces at me from a moving car.

The man of my dreams will speak to me.

He will say actual words. Maybe

they will come in the form of a cheesy pick-up line

or maybe it will be a simple Hello.

Either way he isn’t you.

So please understand when I say that I am not rolling my eyes at you.

I am rolling my eyes at a world that thinks that

these few wasted seconds are anything other than rude.



The girl who is done playing along.


Bullet Proof


I want to be bullet proof glass…

Multiple individual and separate

Sheets clear in the picture they present,

None obscuring the other yet

Together they provide a single

frame obvious in its clarity.

Tear Away

tearaway.jpgI have never identified with something

as well as I do the spiral notebook in your hands.

The words, I haven’t read them enough

to know them by heart, but I can see the letters

you erased when they were no longer right.

And I can see the phrases you crossed out

in haste because they never really worked.

Maybe it will take two hours, two weeks,

Or two years, but one day that wide-ruled

Sheet of paper with the perforated edge

Will wind up crumpled at the bottom

Of the bin, and I will never be the same.



If I woke up on an island


I would call it a vacation.

What better way to escape

this home I built with you.


they call it when

little bits of wisdom

rapidly combust in

a mental flash fire.

What then is it called

when random little

moments of thankfulness

strike like leaves

floating to the ground.