fate

i want to burn my initials into the sun. i want to read poetry from the middle of a burning building standing in the fast lane of the freeway falling from the top of the eiffel tower. i want to do something that matters. we could shape the world -- end the story of my life with the perfect kiss on the lips.

that year. those eyes. that date.

nothing mattered but us -- on a night like tonight, when the world won't stop wrestling with my heart as if it were an over-cooked pork chop tucked between the jaws of a starved giant schnauzer, i stare at pictures from the 50's and 60's and i swoon.. i swoon. somehow it lifts what's left of my heart, stirring the grease and the gristle into a whirlpool of randy nostalgia reminding me that i am almost, almost alive.

one day ill look back and laugh. i hate post-hormones. silly duffer.

apples

take one away from one and suddenly there's not much left. the absence of one comes on like first frost: the weakest plants die first, then others, then others, until the world itself bears a whitish ripple from the point of departure outward. i feel for you when you get lost. there are dogs trained to find you under packed snow or in case of disaster. the world isn't ending. the world hasn't begun to end. its least forgivable trait is persistence, the way what you lose forever leaves a hole that can never be refilled. the blindness comes with time or with snow. everything goes white. like how a star dies, beautiful and tragic. i'd like to be lost like that, not just vanished but leaving no trace but your thought of me. your cold lack of me.

i am so happy. hurry up summer, hurry up!

you were a little sparrow.

mother says that it's a beautiful day outside so we run around tying back drapes and opening windows because we want to play out in the sunshine too but keep the bugs and nettles and wild animals safely away. so we dig for earthworms in the family room floor, go creekstomping in the kitchen sink, overturning plates and heavy crusted pots to look for crayfish and minnows. but we find none and turn to the hallway to ride our tricycles in perpetual circuits, making faces to each other when we pass going other ways. my brother dares me to ride down dead man's hill and i almost do, until mother returns and shouts to get off the stairs before i hurt myself.

i feel like i've been moving at the speed of light. i am in a good place right now.