magic hat

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the hard heel of my boot thunders
and resonates through my body
as i clamor down canal street
illicitly sneaking out when i shouldn’t
and later teasing ghosts that i shouldn’t
with an imaginary hat that gives me
superpowers of indifference and cheer
and the strength to say
nah, shit don’t get to me

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I like you that much

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There’s a lone spot of dry on the sidewalk when I walk home
that lets me know that it’s still okay to be alone.
I know that I can throw out two spoonfuls of vanilla ice cream,
’cause I got me a whole pint on my way home that screams for me.

How easy it is to forget
forget
for get.
To keep swirling in a muddy puddle of,
“I got that ConEd bill to pay before the
terrorists come get me and if I don’t finish
that fat report by tomorrow my boss is gonna
kick my bad-ass to high heaven which reminds me
that I have to do yoga right before my date that isn’t
even really a date on Friday night and jeeeez I hope he
doesn’t cancel because I got this red pedicure just for him
because I like him that much.”

What happened to
I like me that much?
What happened to
I like you that much?

I like you,
this person that I met out on the street,
this person that I shared stories of addiction
and the cowardly nature of suicide with.
Now that we’ve shared three words or more
there’s no way I could draw my double-edged sword
to your heart, because I know now
that I live in there, too.

Rita lost her kid brother in the towers,
and she told me tonight that after these past two years,
an ordinary time is wonderful.

Who are we
to disagree?

johnny cash

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all this shit happening around me makes
my taste buds lie down on my tongue like i
drank too-hot coffee and they scream and plead
god just don’t do that again

and in the bars johnny cash rang out all night long
but the only song people knew the words to
was ring of fire
heh… hey baby
i’ll show you a ring of fire
cuz it burns burns burns
this ring of fire

so you know i just packed up my bags and walked out
that’s all it took
though the smoke is so hazy you can’t
even see houston from here
at least i can taste again

self-portrait

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i swore i saw the da da da guys
drive by in their jetta
the night my wondertwin showed me
how to really paint my soul

it’s only out of habit that these words
come to me when i think about
red desert sand and the earth below

the shooting stars tell me that
god does exist
whether i call him that or not
whether it’s him or her or not

with this hand i can reach 3000 miles out or in
with this hand i could deliver my sins
but i always forget the name for that place
that space i’ve never been

and these goosebumps deserve a better name
but i’m tired and i’m hungry and
that thought went and came

still fires are burning on the desert by accident
waiting for someone to come home
to glance at my soul
to giggle with delight
“now, baby, we’re on a roll”

To husband or not.

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Weddings make me sad because I still don’t understand them.
I mean, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight years old,
I stare out there at the rings on people’s fingers
and watch lips hug words before letting them go
for us all to hear.
And I’m still out here in the atmosphere,
thinkin’,
“Wha’?”

Yeah, you could say to me,
“You just haven’t met the right fella.”
And I would say back to you,
“You’re probably right.”
But I’d still sit here, secretly deflating,
because I cannot fathom being
the void that someone else
steps in to fill.
I mean, I’m sorta just okay here,
vaccuum-less,
responsibility-less.

But then,
do I have the right to whine
when no one understands me?