I have this package, it needs to be delivered.
It’s a matter of life and death.
In the event of an emergency,
we ask you to please remember to
keep both hands within the safety zone.
It was a dozen roses
I did not know what to do with.
So I hung them in the kitchen
until they dried into powder.
Please believe me.
This manuscript is the one
that will change my career.
On transit, she watched faces.
Tired to find someone to talk to.
Sometimes she would smile if
they were reading a book.
Seems the way, the solution
to finding the melody
is right in front of you.
It’s called sheet music.
She sings swing low sweet chariot
when she’s shopping for cotton.
You don’t cry enough.
In his dreams he is a doctor.
He had no business in the hospital.
It was an accident he cut you.
The color of leaves falling
is such a cliché
it’s a wonder the trees
don’t die of shame.
My lover used to be mythical,
I found him in the pages of a book.
Shame when he met me
I wasn’t pretty enough.
The clerk at the shop with the
healing crystals has too much acne.
Obviously, she never listens to
the right kind of music.
Chapter one is brilliant.
It reads like a phone call between
Einstein and someone who
grew up poor in New York.
She walks on the outside of the curb
and tells him it’s so if there’s an accident
she’ll get hit first.
I need to learn these lines by tomorrow.
If I don’t, I’ll be fired.
The moral majority has
declared that you’ve stepped too far
This time we expect you
to relinquish your relationship
with the child.
Prosthetics are too expensive.
Your eyes are beautiful just the way they are.
Plastic can’t replace liquid honey.
My troubles with gods began
when I was very young.
I found a book in a hotel drawer
read it and thought it was poor fiction.
No one alive could believe that.
He just kept repeating
the same haunted phrase over and
over “Please yellow bird.”
The mayor claimed it was for
liberty and honour
that he cut the ribbon on the bridge.
Really, it was so he could drive to work
ten minutes faster.
You lied but I would still marry you.
Skin as soft as gentle spring rain,
that’s what it was going to be covered in.
Leather like butter, like a naked
teenager with no self control.
The postcard of San Francisco
arrived with no name so he left it
on top of the stove
You are pensive and often melancholy.
You are everything the internet tells you
except you don’t need viagra.
I wanted hexadactyly when I was little.
My girlfriend wanted a baby.
We split the difference and sewed our
mouths together with red surgical string.
Grandfather claimed that
junk food was communism,
fine in moderation but
not the a way to win the war.
These wings of balsa wood may
be too thin to hold my weight
If you want, you can have the cat.