Thursday, December 30, 2004

Fresh like salsa when i bust rhymes

Crap poetry for your early afternoon amusement. These were all penned during lunch, on the margins and back of a Chipotle take-out menu (looks cool too; black gel ink on recycled brown cardstock). Almost-first drafts, so they're...well, crap.


when i saw her i knew
that all hope was not lost,
despite the fact that
this she will never be
my hope, my own;

the fact that she exists
compels me to believe
that somewhere
beyond the pale grey fog
is another she
that corresponds to me.


in the past year i
have fallen for two women
and revealed my affection
to neither.
the first because i learned
that she was not for me;
the second because i was
beaten to the punch
by another worthy.

in the next year i hope to
fall in love three times,
reveal my love twice,
and at least once
have my love
exchanged with


chile-corn salsa,
appearing safe and
going down
and then lighting
a fire
in my mouth.


fish-net stockings,
low-heeled black shoes, and
a khaki skirt-hem
failing to hide
your well-formed calves.
it's a shame i
could only see you
from the knees down
through this mostly-covered
i wonder if the rest of you
would have lived up to
the expectations set
by your two

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