i walk through fiction and trace my eyes over the titles. if i find too many books by one writer, i think, with a little fear "what if they're all good?"

i always feel sexier leaving a library than when i came in.

The past grows gradually around one, like a placenta for dying.
John Berger

he told me, "if you're going to be so sunny, do it from the other side of the wall. you've gone and spoiled my ham dinner." i knew what he meant.

i squinted to see you in the dim. i inched my way closer to your chair. i touched your arm. i laughed at your jokes. one day i broke your heart.

creative license

he told me to be an open book, but when he didn't like what i wrote in plain words, he read what he wanted between the lines. in the end, my truth couldn't compare to his fiction.

i'm sad
that you're sad
when i watch the back of your head
walking away
because i've asked you to go.

on a rainy day, neither of us would ever have to step in puddles
for all the lonely men tossing down their coats.

Vince looked like Santa Clause. He wore rose coloured classes with one lens missing. We always had Burger King together in the parking lot of A&P. He liked five sugars in his coffee.

One time Vince told me, "You know, women can marry other women now!"

"Oh yeah, I've been hearing about that. Men can marry men too."

Vince told me, "No, not men. That's how they get the aids. But I sure wish I had two wives!"

He told me he'd been married five different times. When I met him he'd been homeless for 11 years. Before that he was a functioning part of society. I think there was an accident. I don't know where he is anymore. He talked about going to Peterborough, and one day he was just gone.

i still miss you, and there's absolutely nothing to be done about it.

i've met your mother.
she's got crooked teeth,
but she still smiles all the time.

people love to hang around
in my backyard.