Green Tea and Cigarettes

she drinks green tea
for her health
no fake sweetener, of course
'cause that stuff
pickles your insides

she smokes Marlboro Reds
the native tobacco
doesn't taste right, she says
but she knows full well
she's kidding herself

she does yoga on Tuesdays
drinks Hefeweisen all weekend
marches on Washington
to end conflict overseas
but there's a Ruger
in her bedside table
'cause her mommy told her
about men that come in the night

she's got a college education
but works in a bookstore
she laughs and says
it's like drug addict
working in a pharmacy

but when she listens
to that little voice
the one she ignores
she knows
it's a matter of time
before she falls apart
she knows full well
she's killing herself

Mandy, My Dear

haunting keys
tap across my chest
invade my thoughts
disrupt my dreams
a river rock, tossed
across my psyche

a broken note
makes my heart skip
my impatience still
my fingers twitch

she enthralls me
with white hot cinders
she appalls me
with her sincerity

her words are harsh
her words are loving
I love her for being so blunt
I hate her for being so right

A Plea

please,

don't hurt me like the others
they would break my back,
bend my spine in ways
it was never meant to turn

they would leave me
to swelter in hot cars
for hours
in closets, under piles of debris
for months
they would pass me around like a whore
from hand to hand like a disease

now here I lie
slumped over on a shelf
like a drunk hugging a wall
waiting for someone
to stop
to look
to pick me
waiting for you
are you different?

will you earmark my pages?
set your children upon me
with neon markers and glitter pens?
will you leave rings on my cover
with your heavy morning brew?

will you abuse me like they did?

A Poem Lost

I wrote a poem
it wasn't long
but it said so much
contained wisdom
far beyond its word count

I wrote it quickly
stopping only to
dot my i's
cross my t's
never breathing
all the while

I wrote it heatedly
with vigor
and reckless abandon
gave my heart up
to the ink and paper

I wrote it once
and handed it in
now here I sit
missing those words
wishing I had
eidetic memory

Cafe Zarathustra

we loved to argue
He and I
over lunch
about the eternal questions:

who am I really?
why are we here?
why is gas so expensive?

we discussed the great works
the Vedas
the Testaments
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

we made good sport of it
or so I thought

a debate got heated
we traded insults
I ended up
face down
in my Caesar salad

I had time to think
"Et tu, Crouton?"
before the vinaigrette stung my eyes
I only wish
looking back

that I had ordered ranch.