Perhaps,
just maybe
if you asked me
to write you a poem,
then i would
it’s just that you haven’t yet
and (besides) i’m
not too sure whether
you’d like to risk
seeing something that
you don’t really want to hear
but then again i don’t know
if i could write it anyway
it’s pretty hard because
my words end up being lost like
I always seem to feel.
The day that you left me was like the first minutes after the san francisco earthquake, those few seconds after kingkong made his last futile grab at the empire state building, that eternal moment when bergman left bogart — everybody watched everybody waited everybody held their breath. like kingkong humphrey bogart and the insurance companies of san francisco i wished […]
dear abby, her name was joanne and she looked at me with that beautiful smile of hers and told me that i was a veryverywicked thing but it didn’t really matter because she quite enjoyed it as a matterof fact and i agreed because i thought it was goodfun too and i liked it even more and i was also kinda […]
You ask me what the matter is i mutter nothing but you say you can tell because you see sadness in my face it’s nothing, it’s nothing, nothing, i say…