What is there left to write
when I have convinced myself...

They walk in
Smelling of cigarettes and pez...

I feel the need to surround
myself with words...

Bilingual beauty
with her eye on the clock...

The best conversations
take place while the taste of coffee still...

I shed sweet sixteen
like I slide off last night's dress...

His eyes are so
sincere...

Mocking myself, hiding alone
no home for me, no shelter...

I've got my cell phone in my left front pocket
I'm kind of hoping that you might call it...

I don't want to hurt you so I
Hurt myself instead...

Your face is stupid,
I retort, hiding behind my own face...

Writing these days
does not have to be profound...