[015]
05/02/2007 02:28 p.m.

I.
Every poem written with a basis in love
I pray
(And staunch that prayer)
that it may have been written with me in mind.

I want you to think of me as
A perfect creature
(certainly nobody else does)
the goodness in me,
I want you to consider that me
Fully and wholly.


II.
I happen to know that I am not prepared for this.
There isnt a single inch of my body thats in love with you
But theres miles of half burnt tendrils
That care if youre not with me.

I suppose its pride.
My ego requires constant feeding
And ravages my innards with its claws.

But.
I know Im better than you.
I know youre more ignorant
And have a lower tolerance for liquor
Than I have for people.

I know youre twenty years old and going nowhere near
As far as me.


III.
I am drunk so often that I cant think of Miami
The way that I want to.

In between scratching Cesars pitbull on its pate
And swallowing grateful mouthfuls of Blue Moon,
I wonder why I was raised in a way
That prohibits me from discerning Honduran men
From Borinquenos.

I have never fought with anyone
The way you do;
Snuck up on them terrible-like
And let loose,
The strongest coward I know.

All I can do is repeat
Unfeeling
The automatic words of love my insides just cant fathom

and youre too far away to be Hialeah anymore.


IV.
As a woman of smoke and mirrors
Whos gotten used to breaking quickly,
I want you to know how often I have stumbled,
And somehow only ever thought of you.

Occasionally I search various places for your name;
Ft. Lauderdale, Miami,
And come up empty.


V.
I have lost the ability for catharsis.
I blame the way you love me
And still throw me to the dogs.



I am currently Restless