Goodnight, Michael.

I laugh at you and honestly it could not have given you more strength or more fuel to pull me down harder. Michael I ask you why do you hurt me so hard and so strong for your strength is no stronger than mine and Michael please.. Go turn that light off. Geez, it could not be any brighter and I already closed my eyes tightly. So tight that tears sprang out and they didn’t even mean to, they told me they’d wait for you to lie down in the bed beside. Goodnight.

Michael’s girl lay down beside my bed (on his), more clearly, and I didn’t look over. Her breasts hung out the side of her cut off shirt and I was more disturbed than turned on. Michael, tell your girl to pull up her breasts, they’re on my side of the room. I think she heard me because she turned her back to me and pressed her middle finger to my forehead. Michael’s girl is an angel the other boys say, she’s so proud and tough. She sleeps with other men weekly and they still call her “angel.” Poor Michael.

The door creaked open and a stranger walked in and none of us said a word other than me who poured words out of my mouth just to say “close the door behind you, the light is creeping in.” And I ended it with “geez” just so the stranger could get a sense of me. He lied down on the ground between my bed and Michael’s. She swung around, confused, with her left breast hitting the stranger right in the mouth. Michael cried thinking about all the strangers with her breast in their mouths.

I closed my eyes again and held my hand out for the stranger to hold. There were siren sounds and birds alerting their friends to run. The stranger told me not to worry but guess what buddy, too late. I’m a factory of worry that never shuts down and Michael tells me to relax all the time and it does shit for me so please think of another phrase. Michael turned over and told me to relax.

Michael’s girl was punching the air and trying to understand herself when right now was not the time. Look the hell outside, up is down and down is up and I don’t even know if I am lying in the right bed. She punched the air one more time to give me a taste of what I was missing and I said “screw you” and sat up. The stranger sat up too. We looked at each other plainly, his lip quivered while his eye twitched, and the light came in just once more. Enough for me to realize he did not belong in here. I laughed and said, “I guess I don’t belong in here either.”

Goodnight, Michael. Again.

A Fucking Crane

A fucking crane settled on a branch

and he thinks he has the right to crane his neck?

-as that’s what he is?

So strange to lay on this carpet

when I know all the facts

-about carpet burn

I can write a list

It would be less than a page

Is my neck long enough

to imitate a crane?

Very brief;

If we see someone outside the window of a train, will we ever see them again? If she wore white jeans, will that be my only memory of her? Does that settle well with her? Does she want me to have more memories, fonder memories of her? Does she have many friends? Maybe the mothers of her daughter’s friends. They probably sit in fucking Starbucks and Susan will probably spill her mocha frappe latte on her white jeans and the other mothers will laugh but secretly judge her for wearing white jeans in the first place. Why did they go to Starbucks when there is a fancy coffee shop around the corner that they could more than afford and the baristas are hotter (according to Jackie) but they go to the crappy west side corner Starbucks to pay less and see Janet (a woman that Susan has crushed on but no one knows because there are no gay mothers allowed in the group meetings and why would Susan want to be left out?). Janet has blue eyes but Susan could have sworn they were green last week. Susan isn’t married and her daughter has many friends. Susan gets lonely and Susan is scared to tell the mothers that she wears white jeans because Janet once mentioned that white jeans turn her on and Susan can’t think of anything she wants more than to turn Janet on; while she brews her coffee she wants Janet to take her right there and fuck her over the counter and make the love that she hasn’t made before because Susan never told anyone she was gay but I know. And so I connect to Susan for that brief moment in the lapse of time and try to ask her if;

I can be a crane?

Susan, look into the fast moving train (80 mph) and say,

“That girl, I’ll remember her as

A crane with carpet burn.”

Thank you, Susan.

Farmer Boy

Fleeting farms

And honestly broken, fucked up scenes

And I’ve never farmed but I could be a farmer, boy

A farmer boy

We could live here

We could rest inside the arms of sheeps

Whose fleas as white as snow

Warms me

You can get your own warmth, Gem

Gem the farmer boy

Who farms exclusively here but

Every so often finds a better field

And sometimes I peek out and find the utmost desire to scream into a plastic bag just so the man at the grocery store remembers me. I’ll send the bag back to him so he can open it during his smoke break. Gem;

Gem, the stock boy


He opened it after he lit his cigarette behind the dumpster and even the rats jumped up from their garbage. I sent it around so I could be heard because sometimes, Gem, sometimes I want to scream and I want it to be known. I want the rats in dumpsters to hear my sorrows just this once and I promise I’ll be better next time. I promise I’ll use a paper bag and recycle it.

Gem, the sensitive boy

The newly underpaid cashier

From the fat cozy farm, Gem.

God Almighty

And her green, green eyes reflected the windows near by oceans they said. The buildings stacked up really high, so far they were up against the gods themselves. And god almighty stood atop that building and screamed “I can see your reflection in this grand ol’ ocean and I’m as moved as the waves.” 

And she walked up every staircase just to stand by him, to gain some of his wisdom.

She made it halfway before seeing the god almighty’s servants who paraded around her with candlesticks and bread asking if she’d like a taste of what the god himself ate. She whispered no thank you and kept climbing.

When she reached the top, she realized she was completely alone and there was absolutely no god at all. She jumped and landed on a red cobblestone road that she walked alongside of, carrying her heavy head and her misunderstood green, green eyes.

The night started to fall dim and her sleeves were rolling up; she prepared herself to fight. Swinging her arms every few steps she took to beat the night’s devil in her path.

All missed swings but hard, fast ones.

Beating herself up over her efforts and her downfalls, she picked up a few red stones to keep in her heavy pockets.

Hearing her name repeated, repeated, repeated

Her eyes- left, right, left looking for the wave

The servants hustling behind, green

She, repeating no thank you no thank you no-

Their candlesticks already an eighth melted

The ocean waving them through

No more offering, just trampling and stealing and the red stones were no more.

The red flew from her pockets to her eyes; her fear finally in its physical form.

The servants, with their bare palms, removed her.

The wave

The green

And the almighty god.

Do not walk at night sweet children, for the devils of your minds are only more likely to escape.

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