Monday, February 15, 2010

323 number

food demons
holy wood
stoop poems
moving on
"rager 15th and shotwell"
who is this
the perfect apartment with lime green window panes and windows that let the light flood in and a couch with a quilt and a kitchen with pots and pans and the bread you will bake me and the flowers i will buy myself and the bed in the corner with tear stains from laughter and no need for body pillows and alice b. toklas who comes when you call for her and a yellow bathroom and a record player with no dust and a wall of books and a collection of shoes and a polaroid of us in bow ties laughing about the first time and i was 25 and you were a phone call questioning my name and remembering a request i had given you when i was 22 and had stood before you, say call me on your birthday, find me, whatever you have to do, just find me, and you said you'd have a year and i knew it'd only be a day and you'd have brown hair by then and you'd have traveled to south america by then and you'd have written some jokes by then and read the book about the seagulls by then and memorized my poems by then and quit smoking and then started again by then and thought about children and dreamt about me and drove a car up into the hills and stood in a crowd and didn't feel ashamed by then and be even more beautiful by then and you'd have decorated your room in photography of ancient cities by then and decided that washington is still the forest you'd like to die in with me and you'd have found the diary i once wrote in by then-in your kitchen, in a long sought after universe of pickled green beans and a glass of wine it said: welcome to the human race, you're a mess.
shirley temple
taking the sky and turning it into tights
i want colors
here's red
i'm sorry
trying not to be the asshole
seeing people on the street i could know
feeling bad
playing a part
feeling myself
happiness comes to those
crossing the street at dolores and 16th
my laundry will be done by tomorrow

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