On Missed Calls

It was the summer
I dyed my hair bright orange
Something about your mom
thinking I was polite because
I took my shoes off the moment
we got in the house
But what I really mean is
I’ve been thinking about us not talking
Over the same thing again

At least half my thoughts
are about progress

Imagine I am on a deserted island
I am all alone
Until a plane crashes
and I wait to see, with anticipation
Who will make it out of the ocean despite injuries
Because I can’t swim
What is opportunity missed
to a skilled person?

The older I become
and try to look for new love
I should be wiser
But really I wonder more and more often
What I am allowed to ask for


The closet shook me
Like having slipped
Into an enclave

I imagine that instead
Of this white door
Is a chestnut spiral carving
Leading in a dance
Across which I lay my long fingers

Inside, past the ancient wood
Is the memory
Of my every dream

Instead I am standing
For now
Looking at things
I forgot I owned
And what is it
I say to no one
To own
And no one answers

I once believed there was a secret room

When you live in an ivied
rock of a house
and come out
only at night
to pour milk for the neighborhood cats
You’ll understand the uncanny
of the comfort of hotness
of summer air
that is suddenly interrupted
When just beyond the garden gate
you swear you see only darkness
and you’re out among thorny bushes
In a sundress; no bra; bare feet

I don’t leave my house
because I once believed
there was a secret room
in my great grandmother’s house
Situated darkly
far from the window’s peripheral
accessible through a door
built for a body rolled into a ball

And I knew
that all the jewelry was kept in this room
All old journals, all tossed attempts at art
The impossibly windowed room
was brighter than all the others in the house

Only there can I meet the stranger
that stalks my garden gate at night
Only there will I marry him

My friend’s brain

My friend’s brain
is a patted white movie theatre
and on the screen
is a constant projection
of a marijuana leaf

The one cell
that hasn’t abandoned her
takes form
as the projectionist
“I had to adapt
to survive.”

I got her
a double sided pipe
so she can smoke with her love

I still remember
the time she got stuck
in the cat door
and licked herself clean
until she passed out

A party to find my soulmate

A party to find my soulmate
I provide samples
Clear cups with my hair. Perfume
How I smell at different parts of the day
Videos of me pacing my room
Searching for a pen
at two in the morning

Mock letters to exes
Post break-up
It’s important to talk about

My regrets.
which are unoriginal
because it is universally acknowledged
that there is a crucial moment
when a person recognizes
in the beginning of it all
when they should have stopped
But hope keeps you

Here’s a picture I drew
(I’ve no photos I can take
from my mother)
of that one year
we went to three funerals
Is it like the movies?
Because I wear black to celebrate
To the eulogies I think I wore
a pair or red shoes
They shined in my mind

That is how a dreamer starts
I don’t mean I was surrounded by tragedy,
that I had to escape
I mean I was six
and didn’t understand it all
I was bored

At this point
I’m behind a podium
The office room I rented
is starting to smell like rubber
One guy in a grey suit
is checking his watch

They thought
it was a job posting