Saturday, September 23, 2006


i guess that
i blame it on my mother

my problems with women.

and not that attaining
the unattainable
would fill the spaces

she never loved me in...but
i try anyway, shocked

at being both self aware
and consumed.

acknowledging weakness
like picking a scab in protest,
something that would heal otherwise.

that's why i'll always
test a girl that i want
to be with.

slowing down the car
on an interstate, pulling
over and piling out into

a field worth existing for,
then rolling in the grass infectiously

as if we'd somehow die without it.

and if she doesn't come with
i'll stop calling her.

and if she asks me
"what are you doing?"
i won't talk to her ever again.

standards are made such ways,

and love is a bar
i can't set high enough.

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