I was sitting on a train with my pad and a pen, trying to write a poem. I had no title, but I had written down the first line

...I was sitting on a train with my pad...

A man sat opposite me.
After a minute or so of scanning his paper and throwing cursory looks in my direction
he enquiried "What are you writing?"

"I'm trying to write a poem about a man trying to write a poem on a train
who gets asked by a stranger 'what are you writing'.

"Can I be in it?", asked the stranger opposite.

"You already are", I replied.

The train pulled out of the station.

tastes like black liquorice

smells like skunk

and looks like blood

it wakes you up in the middle of the night screaming

“i miss you”

it tears apart your heart and leaves its carcass in the middle of an open field

for the wolves and vultures to fight over

it’s the kind of loss that tricks you into thinking

you haven’t lost the person yet,

because they are in fact, still here

in the flesh, in plain view

it makes your memory lazy when you think

“maybe this time will be different”

so you go back when they call

when they say jump and you say “how high?”

and they love you and call you baby

baby baby baby baby

then you taste the liquorice

and smell the skunk

and see the blood

and you know, it was all a lie because

that person you love so much, really

isn’t here at all

it’s the worst kind of loss there is

when the heart betrays the mind and convinces you

maybe this time, it will be different.

maybe maybe maybe maybe

but then there’s always the ***** the boyfriend the party

that was long there before you ever came along

and it will always be there

always in the background of this person’s mind when they come running back

claiming that they’re lonely

sometimes you wonder if it would be easier

if the person was actually dead

then you shrug because

you already know how that feels, but

maybe maybe maybe maybe it would feel

a lot better than this and so

you keep loving this person, because

love is what you know and you can’t stop but

even love doesn’t cure a loss,

especially a loss like this.

Someone I once loved
Ran his finger across my chest and traced
The outline of my moles and said
"They look like an anchor! When you connect the dots, they are the shape
Of an anchor! You are an anchor. It all makes sense now.
You are going to be okay."

At the time it was like some big epiphany for him,
Like he was telling me something about myself
That I never knew when really, I always knew
It was just
Something I didn't want
To admit. It is something
I have been running away from for a long time now, thinking
I could be an anchor for someone else
Because then THEY could be my problem, my project,
My ocean
So then that way I could leave myself, fallen by the wayside
To wither away, slowly, subtly,
Secretly disappearing.

I am attracted to people who are made of glass,
People who shatter easily, who shatter willingly,
Who are reckless and brilliant, beautiful and dangerous
People who I unconsciously think
I can save.

I can only save myself.
I can only be my own anchor.

I am nowhere near strong enough
To be with someone again
I am so terribly fragile, I break my own heart
So easily. Too willingly.
All I want is to keep realizing things like this,
To admit my mistakes and learn from them, not
Repeat them.
To hold on to the people who keep me on the ground,
The people who actually love me, who don't put me on
Some pedestal where I am liable
To float away.

Because if I'm not careful and let myself
Float away again,
I
may
never
come
back.

Missing the bus and
Being late for work
Is the #1 day ruiner of all time.

hey baby
hi
i'll miss you when you're gone
no you won't
yes i will
okay
i like your scarf
thanks
are you wearing my old sweater?
yeah i've had it for forever
i do want that back someday it is a special sweater
okay
would you like some blueberries?
no thanks

i put on Beck's 'sea change' to drown out
the sound of the things we wouldn't say
the music replaced the melancholy
i postponed feeling
i'm good at putting a rain-check
on feelings
i think i learned it from you
it is both
a curse and a skill,
what can i say?
you taught me well.

i watched you remove your black nail polish
i watched you put on a new coat of black nail polish
i lit another cigarette,
inhaling what i wish i could say,
exhaling what i knew i couldn't.
an hour went by and i could no longer
breathe

i have to go
okay baby
have a good eleven days
you too, have fun on your trip. i'll miss you.
no you won't
yes i will
okay
goodbye*
goodbye

Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb
In the calm calculus of reason.

Hi. How you doin’?

I just got back into town,

L.A.

I was out in the desert for awhile

“Riders on the storm”

Yeah. In the middle of it

“Riders on the storm”

Right…

“Into this world we’re born”

Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem

“Into this world we’re thrown”

When I was out on the desert, ya know

“Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan”

I don’t know how to tell you

“Riders on the storm”

but, ah, I killed somebody

“There’s a killer on the road”

No…

“His brain is squirming like a toad”

It’s no big deal, ya know

I don’t think anybody will find out about it, but…

“take a long holiday”

just, ah…

“Let your children play”

this guy gave me a ride, and ah…

“If you give this man a ride”

started giving me a lot of trouble

“Sweet family will die”

and I just couldn’t take it, ya know

“Killer on the road”

And I wasted him

Yeah.