your skin is not an avocado's, but,
there are
s i m i l a r i t i e s .
when ripe you slip right out of your shell all easy
but when hardened inside && not quite ready
might require the aid of a spoon.

&& sometimes i don't let my mind run with these ideas
but most of the time, i do

always stepping around you lightly, now,
dealing with the discomfort of one shoelace tied tighter than the other
remember when we used to get loose together
or that time we made out in my driveway
remember the graffitti that night
in the house of blues bathroom,
the multicolored tortilla chips
and six glasses of champagne,,

six ways to say every sentence, now, just to save misinterpretation,
choosing words cautiously and
always ending sentences with inappropriate punctuations,
like the red-hot tips of the
sticks i promised you i'd stop dragging on
on and on like you're thinking, oh, god,
here it comes, another monday,
stunned and staring out the window, i see dead daylily stems
bleached and frozen to the ground
frantically reaching out for something
maybe they're afraid of being forgotten, &
sometimes i stand absolutely still, because
i know three little vindictive letters and a + sign can sense you moving;;
they're all huddled together
just around the corner with a big baseball bat
ready to hit home;

push grubby hands with too-long nails
into too-full jacket pockets with ripping seams
i had a daydream yesterday and you weren't in it;
because when life hands me avocados,

01/28/2004

Posted on 01/28/2004
Copyright © 2024 Brynn Dizack