cloudless winter sky

when the levee breaks

you crossed my mind. well, cross is the wrong word. streets are crossed.
what you did was crash. storm.
like a berserker on adderall.
storm. like katrina.
and here i am, watching you. letting you.  high above, far away.
like george w. bush

saturdays, saturdays

youth was never a gift, youth was never a curse.
life is a long weekend. i know it doesn’t feel that way. 
but think about that one perfect weekend, the one no one could ever take from you.
don’t think too hard; don’t apply pressure.
perfection is thin, memories are glass. weekends are dreams


the first time you get a shot, nothing’s ever hurt so bad. 

at least a needle isn’t polio.

the first time your world shatters over someone, nothing’s ever hurt so bad.

like you can’t feel your legs

a different kind of rain

have you driven on the highway when the rain is so heavy there’s only white mist and red lights? 

have you sped up? past the cautious cars hiding in the comfort of a speedometer retreating counterclockwise? past caution?

you probably shouldn’t. you’ll get hurt. you’ll hurt someone.

but if you do, roll the windows down. the water feels nice when you hydroplane.

like a different kind of rain.