I am
    busy
      busy
        busy
being busy being
left right left right
         - left
           alone.

the couch doesn't fit so  
I suggest that we saw it in half (no one laughed.)
my mother finds that the legs
***** off and a phillips would be choice but
when we were searching
the boy walking by
who offered his knife
was so
kind.

I tried his knife and hid
the screwdriver I found
in my back
pocket.

yesterday I fell in love a million times -
with an old man who ate lunch by himself but
smiled and called me 'little daisy' whenever I
refilled his coffee, with my coworker who has three kids
and pretty eyes even when they are tired, my yoga instructor,
the man on the bus with a large coffee stain on his starched collar,
my neighbor who was out mowing his lawn in the dead of winter, and
Kurt Cobain - but today I didn't fall in love at all.

tomorrow I plan to take a walk, eat something for once and
sit next to the man with the stain on my way to work.

perhaps I'll fall in love again.

kisses and the
shivers that
follow, twist into
what it's like to feel
warm
all of the
time.

even if the
temperature tells you
it's not.

even if
snowflakes
tickle your
eyelashes
from time to
time.

these nights we
hold each other's voices and
wait for the clock to stop staring
before we unravel our sweaters, our
shirts our socks and
start to hum the tunes
we were taught as
children

this is the place where wires tangle
the birthplace of sneezes
a home for desperate coins,
two balled up tissues, a
****** wrapper (yippee)
a note with handwriting that fingers the page with it's curly tentacles
and a packet of
matches
to start
the fire.

I don't want your
soul-*******, your
pick-me-up lines.

I just want enough air in this room
and enough space in this town and
enough corners in my brain
to hide in.

I just want a bed at night to lie in,
I just want an atmosphere without holes in it,
I just want you to stop
looking at me
like that,

and I just want to give you this
hole in my stomach
where food used to flourish,
the people used to live forever and
the point of everything was that
it made us happy.

I don't want to settle for
the background of a chagall.
I want the lovers, too.