dear diary

where am I?
it's night the bugs are silent
but this: go about my legs
scheduling, sucking at my blood
well, turn around slowly, fat body
move about, checking
for degree of lost
for debris I've lost
I slap
bet you squash it, you
everyone else talks about how
the winter is coming for them
but no winter comes for me
I'm bare legged, short skirt-did
I'm sheeny, I'm shy
I'm processing ponds
little pools of poem in my head
my arm stay open
my legs spread
I'm a constant in this pool
I'm a constant sweat
it gets dark early
that's the only way to tell
there's a change
can see more stars than you think I can see more stars than you think.
you'd be surprised at the recognizable constellations I see
the same as they're at home, or whatever
its all open late
arms all open late groping
groping at the full night the full  night
my warm wet me
where am I?
I'm a big open wet glad sack
and I got all
that I smile
and I schedule
and schedule
and scuttle
and sad, at it all
but really not
at all

things we think of alone

in the stars & bars, the neon bikini
wet from river,
it sucked me in
this is how drunks drown
the water black linesnaking across
I wouldn't have fallen in there in daytime, too dangerous
wet home, always the sprinklers on the greenbelt between 3 & 4 am
things we think about alone
the dry eyes, the good goodbyes
the dreams I have about masturbating
always a mother or stepmother figure to embarrass myself in front of
the geminates: double rs, double ss
the ending of sentences with prepositions
I'll let you sleep all day, I'll tiptoe about you
find you coffee
watch your skin on the butter sheets, your shorts of a dusty salmon pink shirt
long pretties
I get jealous when I overhear things sometimes
but alone on a bike in the dark, feeling cold, wet, driving fast to beat it
coming alone in the heat, it's nice like winterblanket
it makes a sigh smile across me.
thinking of your leaving, of my staying put
I'm putting out even in sleep.
get in me
you did, once, many
I'm alright with that now
so I think it
so I build it true.
now

because everything destroys

a man came into the coffeeshop

and I force-smiled at him as I gave him his coffee

and he said, What a great smile!

  and I was uncertain

  was he serious?

  did he not see my almost-cry?

and then he said, You must be having a great day.

before he left he told me that my smile was the best part of the whole experience

  and I wanted to punch his face off

a trio came into the coffeeshop

a massive stroke-victim in a wheelchair

  asking question after question

  his dainty, birdlike hand turned awkwardly on his knee 

  he sort of demands an avocado sandwich, which we don't have

  and as he's asking questions, an uncertain woman comes to the counter

  so I take her order

while she's ordering, the child with the wheelchaired man

  interrupts to ask if we have banana bread

  and we don't

I tell her to hold on.

  while I'm helping the other woman,

a man with a thick german accent pushes up to the counter

  and asks if the pork sandwich 

  is served hot.

I have to tell him to hold on.

I have to ask all of these people to stop interrupting each other

  and the man in the wheelchair makes me want to cry

  because his left side is so soft, saggy, delicate

  and he is so demanding & angry.

I wonder, would I be, too

  I am going on a very long vacation starting now

I have no idea to where

  or when I will be back

   or if

    bc we're 28 yrs old still

     & I'm not too curious

airport

I'm sitting here in the cadillac
I've been ignoring the family
who keeps asking for it back
bc it's my whip, now
there's the trash, rodesoda cans
allofthe blankets off of allofthe cabin beds
a blue-painted sign written I think in my grandfather Bruce's hand that reads,
silk purse
and on its alternate side,
sow's ear
It's a special item
& also the carved wooden fist, I had to break it off the doorway
I'm glad I noticed it, else it would have been crunched
so
it's my whip, now
& I'm in jetstream aviation's parkinglot
picking up my passenger
and really, not sad at all to be at the airport picking up my passenger
I'm no sadball
I'm ballless
& ignore me, nothing abt me is an ugly one
or a gross thing
or a sucker
May be I am a full fantasizer
a picture-of-the-futurer
a let's try it
but you should check out my most excellent smile
it's the one thing I have for your face
give me sentiment, give me nostalgia
give me
a present a future
give me my good face back,
  an idgaf face
give me
bc I'm a neurosis queen taker
a narcissistic give me give me
   I glow
   I'm a glow machine
& no one blow me down now
fly here, flyaway
  whatever,
I'm taking the car
& I'm out of this twobit town

sadalone loser lol

I went to a babyshower on sunday, I walked in the backyard but the fiance had to lift the gate for me, I sat with my dad, he liked my shades, said, Very moviestar. He asked me how I was doing as he ate spinach and strawberries, salad on a stick. All of the women told him to eat everything, he was taking it down. I told him three things. I struck him within minutes of the babyshower, but I was guilty

I don't care that he knows these three things

he's my dad,

I guess he wants to know them

The punchbowl was right in front of us

I had been imagining this punchbowl all day, porcelain, with 8 tiny cups, crushed ice & berries & what my grandmother would call a nice blush to pour in

Small cups make many trips to the bowl so dad & I were interrupted and at one point instructed to Smile and look happy for a photo. What do you say but oh god and smile the only smile you know? Irony corners. Dad always has watery eyes, so might just look happy, not definitely teary. Poor dad. I'm sorry I have lain you on.

But he wasn't even invited! no men at showers. just guess how fat mom's uterus makes her with this ribbon of twine. I apparently know not the width of a pregnant woman, I lost desperately

He just stopped by to say hi & was instructed to Eat EAT EAAAATTTT

so sorry, I sat down & wear it on my face, three things

I tried to get the punch down but the berries were froze, not for teeth

I didn't have any of that cake

  but no one did save for the pregnant woman and the bride

jerk

thought to be pretty funny yesterday, telling you what to do

but I slept   in

so I'm not as funny today, more regular-guy today

my hair looks pretty great

I am a shabby

they're going to see my hair for the first time

the repulsed old women

are gonna be like, 

Oh my word

is that a young woman?????

I think I'll have some orange juice when I get to work.

I think I'll lie about how great the chicken salad is.

but really the lie is not too much a lie because whatever

big-bra babe with her glitter jewel necklace & fresh honey hair

is gonna love it 

truly

it's called lying for favors

hey, can you do me a favor?

let me do you a favor.

advice a lie

smile a lie

present a lie with all its fun-lie mass

a happy lie

for your starving stomach.

yeah the planet distance is pretty great

so I'll just orbit for awhile

til it breaks

the excitement of the outback steaks & the smile I can makes

I'm going to put these words away, now. I want to experience some facts, now! and for once. Today I am going out in the world, but with a bike for the weather's too much for experience. I'd feel guilty leaving it behind.

When I last looked for employment, I went on a long, rainy january carride to beaverton. It was a westy's, or maybe... are there westy's in beaverton? It was a big bowling alley, supercorporate. I fell in love immediately. I fell in love driving, actually, the rain beating against shoddy wipers, the cliffs of the freeway climbing, climbing in the dark around, and the forest surrounding. I thought beaverton might be a romantic little sanctuary, buried in the lush of north oregon, the layers of soil and dirt brimming with life, earthworms, beetles, ferns of every sort. But was I surprised, then? After the long drive I knew that if my future workplace was in fact going to be this particular bowling alley, my forced lunches & dinners would be fries and outback steaks.

But my confidence! oh, I knew it, I just knew they'd want me. I was perfect. I would wear skirts, and have a nice haircut, and I'd be younger & cuter than the rest, and the patrons at the westy's bar would just love me. I'd keep the crowds thick. I'd keep them coming. Of course they'd see this clearly! The line in which I waited for my three-minute interview was one-hundred people long.

Today, I have this path to go along the boise river, and somewhere, over in the worthlessness of parkcenter boulevard, I'll creep alongside the red robin, smile a smile I can smile, and show them how fucking retardedly able to welcome rich douchebags to a restaurant am I. How capable, and how thrilled, even! I can smile and smile and smile. Just keep the bruise-tattoos and armpits to a minimum. Minimum is a pretty word.