stories

Running after the end game
but it caught me here
finding the beginning
again
it keeps coming
so I progress no further than the start

swallowing demigods
every night
and the filament
is flickering
a new beat
a new rhythm
a burnt orange flavored cast
on careful crimes
I can't forget

This five-chaptered story
of
aching love
bleeding all over
another
un-made bed
filling the days
and most nights

But now I'm late
and chapter six
is writing itself
inside someone else
a foreign body
an unspoken, unbroken code

Just lay the book on my chest
feel the words
leave the words

keep your word

A Girl

She was the type who looked for daytime moons

And collected old photographs

of people

She never met

Just to look at the way their hands fell

And the untold truths in their eyes

She wrote lists

Of

Colors

And flowers

And words

Breaking focus only to stare into

Thoughts of

Where she could be if not here

In an old bookstore smelling of must and history

Reading Vonnegut

At a cafe sipping earl grey

Listening to Count Basie tunes from scratchy speakers

Watching lovers

Young

Old

Secret

Finding new ways

To

Begin and end

A tryst

She was frequently lost in her mind

Searching for the perfect

Time and

Place

To escape into

Life

Fuller

Richer

More fragrant

Than from the corner

Where she watched it all

Pass

by