online literature since 2007

Saturday, March 13, 2010


sometimes i forget what its like
to be your friend.

you show up with your short skirt
and your red cardigan,
and your complimentary colors.
you take a drag of your cigarette
and you ask me to help you finish
that one project you
just don't
have the time to do.

and i look at you like i recognize you.
and i speak to you like i know who you are.
and i agree to help you
like my car isn't rusting at the edges
like the hedges
don't need a good pruning,
like the wallpaper isn't peeling
like my shadow hasn't felt
like a heavyweight champion lost
at sea, clutching driftwood
staying adrift,
remaining afloat
until land loses its grey fuzz
and with great luck becomes
a sensible, reliable saviour.

you're like the cat around the corner:
always there but never seen.

maybe i'll leave you
a saucer of milk.

maybe i won't.