Monthly Archives: February 2011

Love in a bathroom stall.

Eyes meet across a crowded room,
suddenly, there are only two.

Pupils widen briefly in surprise,
at what they find,
but neither really knows what it means,
at the time.

A passing glance becomes a stare,
just going to get a drink,
“oh…pardon me, I didn’t see you there..”

She smiles at the clever lie,
and moves aside slightly,
letting his elbow brush hers,
ever so lightly.

For a moment they stand frozen,
eyes locked,
but not evaluating,

strangely warm,
amongst strangers.

For a moment he disappears,
and her panic ensues,
but there he is, walking,
she follows on cue.

Not wild passion,
nor reckless abandon,
gentle hands, soft caresses,
a finger slowly tracing a lovely jawline,

propped upon a small dispenser,
he enters.

Noses touching,
…eyes locked,

Before he can wonder where to release,
never taking her eyes away, she softly says,
“…in me”

The world falls away,
and a quiet like none other is upon them,
faces flushed in little death.


Quietly they dress.

“I think I fell in love with you”, he says.
“I think I did too”, she says.

They say no more,
and smile at their dates,
wisely spurning the gift of fate.


Consequence is empty.
A blank, soul-less thing, without care,
without definition.

The sum of your grief may be long,
or brief,
and you might say you lost it,
but someone else may profit.

The waste you make while you are cleaning,
may give someone else new meaning.

So watch carefully what you throw away,
you may want that broken thing someday.
Perhaps it’ll look differently,
When you learn to see.

Everyone always knows what they ever wanted,
once they lost it.

You’ll tear your fingers to bloody claws,
digging through that dump, trust me.
I could wring my dripping hands a thousand times,
and it still wouldn’t stop you, if you felt it true.

Tame not the shrew,
instead discipline you,
or end up alone,
hands crumbling bone.


I’m going to be the weak one this time,
Let me define,
I want you to tell me, I mean the world to you,
and I want it to be true.

I want you to call me when I’m not there,
call me again, text me, find out where I’ve been.
Ask me all of those questions you think I should ask.
Don’t laugh.

We all wish this. All of us ‘real men’,
and all of us men, just the same.
Don’t you fucking realize that we feel just the same?
Are you all so dense?

Tell us that you want to know our story,
and how we felt about it,
and how we feel about you,
it’s not always just fucking about you.

I didn’t call you today,
I didn’t text you today,
Well guess what,

Guess fucking what?

Neither did you.

What did you learn?
What did you prove?

Am I really that much worse than you?..

You don’t have to give flowers,
Or pledge your soul.
Just for one fucking minute,
forget you have that power,
forget what you know,
pretend I, have something you desperately need,



I’ll just let the bygones be,
I’m sure I’ll be a happier me,
A shot was lined up sure and true,
The shell, it would have flown at you.

I’ve felt every invisible jab,
Every damning conclusion,
Under that weight my shoulders do sag,
But never enough to turn my words to bad.

Instead I said the good I’ve known,
Even as I sat alone,
No friends of mine, no enemies,
I just speak of memory.

I heard so long ago,
“If you have nothing nice to say…”

Did you hear that?
Of course not, there was not a sound,
But what need do I have, to speak,
I’d rather just cleverly write it all down.