pockets should be made

to be forgotten about

like unintended time capsules:

a lipstick from 1993,

tissues of a baby,

a skittle.

2 dumb haikus

i like you because

you ran all the way back home

to get your notebook

you should check the lock:

it should click twice and turn in

to a pool of blood

i wrote a poem on shirley,

nothing racy.

she has me in a cold room

filing a stack of papers that

all look the same,

and the door is locked.

i smirk,

say i've never been here before.

let me start by saying

it's not that i want to:

it's just that we're being offered no other choice.

no one else is left on the planet,

so i think i'm gonna marry you.

we can both take turns needing each other.

shirley

shirley has never been held

maybe fucked, but not held,

the last man was white, with big feet

it was a misunderstanding,

she'll never marry now

2

i never thought you'd take your shirt off in front of me;

and when i told you i liked mirrors,

you grabbed my butt and said "it's because you're a girl."

we both watched, then kissed after.

jajaja

when i was fourteen i found a quote on the internet, and to this day i've never disagreed with anything more: i think it was plato, who said all lovers are poets too. but loving you doesn't make me epic. only lame.

you were very kerouac, and i wish i had another way to describe you. but i remember jetskiing and you doing weird things to my legs. now you date miss louisiana.

new york, when it's just me and you,

i get nervous

like the time i thought you read my diary