i can't wait until i fit into these boots.
my ankles sprouting forward, into adulthood.
it never occurred to me
that i might have to buy my daughter a pet
so she can watch it die.
there's nothing scarier in this world
than falling in love with anything you know wont last.
the hardest lessons are the ones
we know we have to teach ourselves.
i dont know how to thank you lord
because i dont know if youre there.

my friend told me once
that it’s nice to see that smile of mine again
the one that reaches my eyes
and my fingertips
it came back when i found this freedom
this open space of a place
she said i was bright again
i think the sun behind my smile
is you

i’m tired of not loving you.
i’m tired of the dry
fluorescent lights
illuminating not everything
but almost everything
just enough to make me think
i see it all.
i’m tired of waiting
for the stones i sent skipping
across the water
to come back
i’m tired of sinking with them.
i’m tired of noticing
that snow during spring
is warmer than i am
i’m tired of complaining
and then being scared of
what you think
of my complaining.
i’m tired of stitching puzzle pieces
into patterns that don’t make sense
just so i can ask you about them
i’m tired of trying to hang paintings
on bare white walls and thinking
i’m the problem
when it doesn’t stick.
i’m tired of being overestimated
even when i know
what i’m doing
i’m tired of falling in love
just because you’re kind to me
i’m tired of not loving you
but i’m tired of not loving me more.

i don’t want you
the real you or who you are with me
not like that
not in the way that i’ve been thinking about recently
i think my brain is a little disconnected
from reality or from rational thought
because i’ve never wanted you like that
except for maybe that one time
that i thought i was in love with you
but that was a fluke
anyway the point still stands
i don’t want you
the real you or who you are with me
and i think maybe they’re the same
which is kind of what makes me think
maybe i do.

it’s a good idea to take a moment each day
to remind yourself where you stand
and who you could have been
had you been standing
somewhere else.

Turning the pages of Sunday’s paper,
eyes spilling tears upon reading
of the ambush killing of a local cop,
and  elsewhere, cops as killers,
the horror of the murders
of twenty angels and their guardians
at a small-town school,
people just having a holiday party,
going to a movie,
people attending church, for god’s sake.
I make my way to the sports section,
that fantasy-land of touchdowns,
home runs and slam dunks,
only to find stories of drunken outfielders
and homicidal/suicidal linebackers
wielding pistols
followed by a half-page ad
for the Guns and Gear store,
urging me to get in on the deals—
an assault rifle, only $649.99,
semi-automatic pistols from $319 to $549,
all the ammo a person could need
to shoot up a school, a theater, a mall, a business,
a synagogue or mosque or church,
even an army base.
My sorrow vinegars to frustration and anger,
that my letters to so-called representatives
must be written on thousand dollar bills
to even get a reading,
answered by a staffer’s reply that says nothing,
and, in the end, dear god,
I’m left with prayer and poetry,
the children of necessity, drowning in futility.

another story on the news.

no, he says.
the problem in this country
isn’t guns. it’s morals.

he loads another bullet.