out-of-date

should i start painting my eyes dark to let you know when i am sad?
should i have made a list, a cheat sheet, to keep track of all the good times that we had?
i always pick at my scabs. i always scratch at the bug bites.
it's always the smallest things that are the hardest to fight.
i'll never understand, but i'll always give in.
you don't even have to fight back, yet you still always win.
your hair color will always change.
your teeth will never be straight.
your eyes will always be strange
and your clothes will always be out of date.

some time apart will do us some good,
yet, my brain & my heart are still glued to you
you still always ask how i'm doing & sometimes, i don't know
but damn, if you only knew...
i'm passing the time
touching & being touched
by life & men who feel those same crazy feelings i do
except for me & not for you.
i will always carry his bruises on my arm
we always parked by the river & made out in his red car.
he was the only bald guy who ever asked first before he tried to kiss me.
and i treasure that wrinkled portrait he didn't sketch for me but gave to me anyway
and i still have his roses sitting on my window sill
with crunchy brown petals
they've been dead for weeks
they're still beautiful....

and i listen to their kind words about my eyes
but i wish they would all just stop.
just like that skinny little jersey boy did
with the fucked up head & the jeff cap on top.

when i try to listen to the symphony of your thoughts
all i can hear is loud static and noise
i guess that's why momma raised us to be warned against those skinny little jersey boys
who have nothing to say & are too immature to move on past gravity
but that's not my problem
i'll just keep being me
and you'll just keep being
new jersey.

eventually everything goes bad, expires, and dies.
the foul stench of "us" rotting must have bothered your eyes
to be honest, i could feel it too
clogging up my nose
fading out of style
out of date
...just like your clothes.



sept17,2001