oh -
sneers a teenager -
they used to treat women for Histeria;
craziness from the womb!
they just hadn’t had orgasms.

they used to treat women for Borderline -
too many emotions!
no regulation!
tough love fixed that.

after they stopped wearing corsets
the poor things starved themselves to death –

I agree.
The world is a fucked up place.
Sometimes I imagine
shaking my hair out and
joining you.

But it is the diversions that make things interesting –

long car rides,
dropping things on the subway.

The best part of life
is talking to strangers in the checkout line,
it is googling your new crush
over and over and over.

It is throwing up on a rollercoaster.

The best part of life
is the part that you cannot expect;
often it is the part
that you cannot accept.

Because once you’re lying pretty
in some satin,
you don’t have time to go back
and do anything else.

The best parts of life
happen often -

But what does it really mean,
when I can get a pizza 20 minutes from desire,
a hooker on the internet in 1 hour flat;
what does forever mean when nothing lasts longer
than H&M jeans?

We are so tenuous, so tentative, these days,
introducing ourselves to one another,
expressing interest;
romantically or platonically our relations
stagnate, dawdle,
they trip and fall and wander off
into the great beyond of
2-am-facebook-lonliness.

I want forever to exist,
with the full-force passion that I used to wish for
everything to be ok
and everyone in the world to be happy.

I want anything to exist, anything real,
I want the world to lose the ethereal and gain the tangible.

I want my life to
end up
better than where I started. But
maybe nothing can get better than the beginning or the end:
than the safety and comfort of a womb,
or unfeeling pleated satin.

We were standing by the pool table
in a dark bar and
my feet were sticking to the floor.

She didn’t look at her hand when she chalked her cue.

“Listen up, honey,”
she said to me, and I listened,
“Right now the world is split up into
kids who think everything will work out okay
and adults who’ve hit the brick wall running.
You wanna know what a man is?
A man is just a boy who’s been humbled a little.”

She had a proud nose and
whacked people with the cue when they were in the way.
Nothing about her seemed humble to me,
but I didn’t want to be rude.

I asked her if she wanted another drink.
She leaned in close to me and I smelled her musk –
Jameson, Newports, and drug store perfume –
she grinned.
“Honey, if I’ve got one drink left in me I’ve got a million.
It’s your shot, then get another round.”

I did as I was told – 5 ball corner pocket –
then grabbed my purse and walked out.

I don’t like nobody telling me what to do,
and that bar smelled like a dead horse.
I’ll find another one just like it
down the street.

Orange coves did dock and do,
And mosey over, wouldn’t you?
For silly thieves and lonely lines,
But up again within our times.

Shoot now! The rows of endless night,
And rove about in periled flight,
Touch toes – with toes – and knees – with knees -
Forlorn, the lions sigh and plead.

Cats are up and dogs are down,
But I am king within this town.
So run the whip and faster! Go!
But never stop to say hello:

For crowns are crowns and never round,
But hope lies thick upon the ground.
So come and dance and dip me tight!
We’ll spin the moon with all delight!

3 am

that last cigarette erased the time I peed my pants skiing.
this next will wipe away the years I spent hating my parents.

4 am

the darkest part of the night calls for some self love
to rub out thoughts of my last l’esprit d’escalier.

5 am

as the night wanes,
I make some coffee to shake off the guilt
of another sleepless night.