Surrounded by big windows,
good students,
in the middle of a bad day.
So nervous these words
are written all over,
reflected in my eyes,
her sticky lips,
that endless trophy case.
I have to protect the outspoken,
keep this learned grace,
though these are not the plans we've made.
The thrill is all air.
Our movements are low,
gray from the smoke.
We've become a great hazard in this hotel life.
Anger hangs at the surface, now called upon.
Our home and words are shaking.
You don't understand,
but this is pain.
This position is awkward,
it's old.
You've supressed your appetite,
I couldn't find one here.
I was fifteen when I thought the coast
was all I'd ever need.

03/21/2005

Posted on 03/22/2005
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