Week 10

You said to never leave a cold glass un-coastered,
and this whiskey condensation's sure to leave a mark.

A reminder of promises' suicide.

Your crying eyes called for retraction

And I always wanted to be a runaway

so I ran till you couldn't hear the angels in my voice no more.

Cross country hitch-lust hike affair.

Touched a screw as I passed through all the state lines,

like we used to. 

In Topeka I made friends with a mailman. 

His name was Gary, 

Told me his daughter looked just like me.

That he hadn't heard from her in years.

In Terre Haute I saw your neck.

Someone else was wearing it.

And they didn't have it on right.

I bought forever stamps at the last post office
before passing through Warsaw, 

Because I made you something
And thought you out to have it
But before I could fold the coffee filter hearts into the snow pattern

I threw up.

So I mailed you that instead.

...

Week 11

The night you first saw me

you held my face.

We were whole. We were high. We were new.

Come over. 

 The night stopped. 

I've made a mistake.

It's probable that i will drown. 

Come over, 

the water's dark,

I've got everything lit.

The wax, it slowly drips down. 

I'm waist deep in Om's Lake

with her Indiana moon.
By the pontoon.