spaceweasels

I had been following him for months; this was not something one wants to jump into. I had to wait, study him, plan it out, the last thing I want is for him to get spooked at the last moment and close up on me. I had worked far too hard to get to this point and have it crumble in front of me when I'm so close. I will just have to be patient. A task that was much easier to do in my mind then it was in practice. In this car of her's with some other guys smell still in it. It doesn't even make me mad anymore. I know why she goes out every night, why she needed that type of company. A silent man sitting at a computer desk with papers strewn about,

i had spent many nights on that porch looking up at the sputtering stars for guidance considering trading my north star for one that offered better council they were all tempting but none quite fit my budget

two roads meet         at at single point on this map        just as we  my love      only share this   solitary point    in our lives    we will part  as all roads must     but at this one point    on our maps  we are one   not a pair    not a couple  but one entity      one imperfect flawed         pothole-ridden landmark          that makes passersby stop  in a world full of overpasses intersections deserve special attention

on my throne of cloud i ride through my waking dreamscape with a small owl as my only guide he wears the outfit of a shoeshine boy  but his eyes betray him   i know he is tarnished   faded perhaps it is the fact that he carries a pocket watch that strikes me as odd why would an owl need a pocket watch? i reach out to him my arms stop moving  but my hands continue and without my arms to stop them my hands float away like the balloons of my youth that i abandoned so they wouldn't carry me away but my mind carries me -despite the best effort of thorns and barbed wire to hold me back- to the place of realization of r

before me there were strange people with strange names  that i will never meet before them  there were my parents   still strange, but i know them  before that   travelers from places i have read of in books    going to places that the authors once dreamed of   before the coming and going    an old lady knitted     for a daughter and grandchild she never gets to see  they all lived here the walls remember their stories places remember tales people have long forgot and yet you think i'm in my room  by myself   putting off doing my english paper    when really i'm studying history

i suppose i should have seen it coming you were so well prepared after all the little meadow where we first met serving as a fitting closing point as well disguised as a picnic basket pain managed to carpool with us sitting on my lap the entire way slowly spoiling the mayonnaise in the potato salad i must know had you planned it did you know as we worked to wrench the lid off the jar of pickles that morning did you know the whole way there that we might leave in the same car but we would never leave together i packed my love in a wicker basket but i never expected to have leftovers

last week i killed a baby after having kidnapped it many nights before i didn't really consider it as a matter of much consequence the mother being of lower status  forced to live with dozens of others  in the same condition didn't seem too bothered  when i offered food  for her child at the rate she's at i expect she'll have another fairly soon i didn't really think much of it until breakfast the next morning  when i wondered about the morality   of scrambled eggs

i found it beneath the couch this shriveled crisp tube and i find myself wondering did some one abandon you? were you  loved and lost? did your size cast you apart from your peers? is the blood of you and your friends  on the hands of one of mine? i stare at my unfortunate visitor and i hope that for this poor victim his demise was not overlapped with celebration as is common these days perhaps if i had stood up and acted upon the conviction that these poor beings should not be hunted down that we must treat them as delicate parts of our culture or they may one day be gone having delayed the inevitable i gingerly sc

after the harsh winter and bitter piercing cold it brought the howling sand paper storms stripping even the most stalwart of trees  to its core and yet there on the edge of the tall beech tree a single bud still remains and in the coming spring it will burst filling the  bleached out desolate landscape with its first hint of color a promise of things to come of a warm summer and cool nights no winter can steal the hope for a warmer year

"we can rebuild him. we can make him better than he was before" every time i see you i hope to get stricken with some rare terrible illness that needs transplants  to cure my heart can't take the stress of you my lungs long  to suffocate me even before you speak when we walk together you make me want to drive  full speed into the path of a speeding bus just to get new limbs i wish the hand you hold wasn't mine the lines on my palms don't allow me the time to hold you  as i should i'm sorry love i am not as perfect as you  but things change