Monday, July 18, 2011

I want

a boy who rewards himself with manly bath time. You know, a bath and beer and a wooden "rubber ducky" or something.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Flowers in a jar we picked out in my yard,
Face in my pillow, fevered with fears that offend you,
of course you'll come back, of course you won't leave like this,
of course you'll come back and give my forehead a kiss,
of course you'll touch my salty cheek,
of course you'll return to me.

Bipolar cat that sat in my lap during our night picnic,
Candy bars you bought me in my refrigerator and bodies moving rhythmic,
I hope you remember sitting in coffee shops and romantic evenings,
I hope you think its cute that I get chocolate on my elbows,
And I hope you like how much I love animals,
and I know you'll remember the fits but never forget flowers in a jar we picked out in my yard,
I'll never forget you'll come back and of course you'll return to me.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Three hours. Not a full work shift.
A day. Not long enough to clean my room.
Two days. Three hours.
Three days. Still not a full work week but the average number of shifts I may work.
Four days. Still not the weekend.
Five days. I have waited much longer.
Six days. Not yet a full week.
Six days and three hours. We’ll figure it out.
Three hours, September. 19 is young. 
Three hours, September, 5 years. That pains a little.
Three hours.