Plucked fresh from the dealership floor
like eggs still warm with henhouse straw
proudly bearing temporary tags until
the vanity plates come FedEx from daddy
These girls drive cars worth more than
the rapidly disentegrating houses
rented to them in this college town

And how they love it.
A city small enough to get drunk
and lost without being shot or stabbed
- but within its limits, thousands of
stupid young men!
They might as well be goddesses
in Greek fairytales

And don’t they know it.
They dress expensive, too
showing off enough to turn our heads
faster than even their cars do
Shredding most hopes that we’ll
ever pay attention in class
or get through a meal at the dining hall
without choking half to death

And they would kill us with their looks,
if they could. They wield this
twisted power like a toy,
making victims of everyone
including themselves, however indifferent
and out of reach they might act.
But there they are, unchanging
and growing slowly cold
tangling their emotions around guys
false as themselves – being vulnerable only
at the very times when they should not

And they have no idea
And still we hang helpless
on their every step and word
equally ignorant of how much time,
thought, misguided emotion
we are wasting.
Thank God for cigarettes
thank God for beer weight
and irritating cell phones
Only with help do we glimpse
shallow girls for what they are.

crrchunk chuk chuk cheeeee
No more semis
stopping in the night
air brakes popping and squealing
as they roll to the stop sign eighteen feet
from my window

skkrreeeeeeeeeeeeecccch
Enough with the buses!
pads worn from constant braking
screaming at the pavement as they drag
the noisy monsters to a halt – all too close to the
room where I sleep

assorted ridiculous noises
All day long,
through the night,
and hey, why not some more the next day?
Growling SUVs, speeding Porsches,
those idiotic noisy-mufflered Hondas
pass by in constant succession

One of four busy streets
in a small town
where everyone wants attention
…And leaving the window shut
would result in overheated
air-conditioner-less death
So open it stays, which is great
but for the intersection being
one very small lot away

When I graduate I will go back to the country
after a hopefully brief trip up
the ladder in some city web design firm
I can get used to the noise
I have gotten used to it
unless “used to it” means that
it no longer drives me crazy

Living in town is interesting
because there’s more activity
with people around and stuff going on
But then, i’m boring
and don’t do a lot one way or another
So i’ll take the squirrels, hawks,
and a dozen acres… For now,
I’d give an arm and a leg
(ok, how about fifty bucks a semester)
to live just one block to the north

I feel the tension of a familiar
clothespin at the base of my nose.
From the edge of my hair
to the bottoms of my cheekbones,
my head seems packed with wool

But with cool air slipping onto my arms
through our gloriously open window,
I exult that winter is finally dead
despite the discomfort in my head
that comes with changing weather

What are aching sinuses,
compared with spring breezes?
The dusty screen also lets in
chattering bird-song, lively and joyful noise
far outweighing painful distractions

So often we take the bad, grudgingly
accepting our world’s imperfection -
and forget that the bad is only
a side effect of a stronger good

Sweat because you feel the sun
Suffer because you can feel
Hurt yourself because you’re
free to do so…But don’t
hate spring because of a stuffy nose

I got back out of bed when the storm first moved in
But not quite so dramatic, it was just the wind
at the windows that shook off my late midday nap
as it rattled then rushed on its way down the street

And so it goes with my time. Here’s another day
ended rather uneventfully. Another
evening blows by with homework before bedtime.
I’ll wake up to frosted windows, cold sky, classes.

No two days are the same but they’re all too alike
hurry off, hurry back. Take a break – eat a snack
and off again. Three years almost done; one more left
And then off to hurry at something somewhere else.

What if this were it? Sun and rain, air and classes
tearing past towards… nothing. Money saved for seconds
that will also pass too fast. Hope would be insane!
Bleak as this world is, hope is more real than the wind.

With people, there is no such thing
as starting over
You and i might try again, or harder
But cannot reset
to before we met

Past wrongs or rights
will always,
for worse or better,
remain.
They may be addressed,
turning even bads good -
but can never be erased

And if restarting were an option
who would benefit?
I for one would likely take
the same wrong turns,
make identical mistakes
without the truth learned
by failing the first time around

Starting over would be a waste anyway
Further waste comes by wishing we could
Go on, or don’t

but enough sad daydreaming

suddenly i’m older
on campus still at five
wisdom is not given
based on your years alive

i never did grow up
or maybe i will yet
seems like a full-time job
is what big people get

soon i’ll find employment
shouldn’t i find a wife?
quarter-past already
is my one earthly life

don’t feel grown up the way
i had expected to
at this age i should have
at least a general clue

this school’s a lot bigger
i know the way around
but memorizing streets
can’t mean adulthood’s found

…

nowadays to get home
i cross poplar and main
though it’s rare that things change,
they sure don’t stay the same

childish poetry makes me feel 10

these emotions might bump me to 12

good and evil are at it again,

now i’m 6,

and i’m moping, and need to be held

i feel so big when i get it right

whatever the dumb “it” may be

truth is, i’m powerless as the night

to stop day,

can’t help you, cannot even save me

i’ll draw you my best written pictures

nicer than bad kids wrecking the place

but if i focus on that fixture

a Monet

might as well be a kick in the face

At last my knuckles’ skins aren’t cracked
The weeks of ice are drawing back
The drains and sidewalks gladly pull
new waters underground

Some summer plans are taking shape
Some schemes are looking not so great
Excitement comes with skies less grey
and sunshine sneaking down

Wet grass and mud smell fresh and new
The warmer air’s refreshing, too
A t-shirt and light jacket are
somehow exciting things

Now longer days are creeping in
Beyond a doubt, it’s spring again
Another spring, another try
No, I should not give up

Lost in a crowded room,
Not in the crowd.
Under the noise
All I hear is the sound

Of a joke that fell flat,
A deep voice that just cracked,
An awkward pause -

Anywhere to go,
Nowhere to hide
One hope, one fear
One thing is clear…
I need to hurry out of here.

I’d pay my last dollar
to remove her indifference.
I’d pay it twice
to buy some of my own.

the screen-glow through my two migraine eyelids
burns as if i were three feet from the sun
can’t think of where this headache came from, but
it’s sharp enough i can get nothing done

i had one on saturday that got bad
another on monday felt even worse
a third for today; now i’m getting mad
– it hurts enough i can hardly converse

if i focus just right i can process
thoughts but …the distraction is not enough
if i sit awake now i will want to
die later. time to take pills and give up

i lay down to sleep: rough pain charges in
my brain’s city-walls have been overcome
i fall asleep soon, the caffeine kicks in
…aspirin shows up to a battle soon won