Wednesday, March 3, 2010


The last sinewy fingers of sunset
stretch over the hilltops,
begging me,
“I’ll stay two more minutes if you stay too”
And so we stay,
and as I begin to leave
suns golden fingers plead
just two more minutes—
stay and twirl your skirt
in the white foam of the breakers!
Two more minutes I stay,
each time I turn to go,
one last sunny ray reaches,
stretching for me to stay and play.
As the path I’m walking
lights with the brightness of sunset,
I turn to say goodbye,
and watch the last finger of dark
slip over the sand

I Miss You

I miss you—
oh how I miss you.
Listening to songs
that used to make me cry—
because they reminded me of you.
Your photos in my house,
those blue eyes
tell a thousand stories
from a dozen picture frames.
Maybe we’re strangers again,
maybe we’ll start over,
but I can already feel
that you’re moving on again.
I never thought it would be like this,
so short,
I wanted forever,
but you knew it would never come.
I hate that you knew it.
I hate that I miss you.
Oh how I miss you.

Tied To You

In my dreams
I’m tied to you
‘cause I look to you
to make me beautiful.
I wait
to find someone
who will look at me
the way you used to.
It’s been months
but still I remember
how you feel.
It’s just too bad
we weren’t real;
there was no us
when the bed was gone.
I think of you now
and wonder
what I liked about you.

Just One More Time

Just smile for me,
just one more time
look at me like you love me,
like there’s no one else here.
I could wander this life,
alone and small,
and contented so,
just as long as you smile,
just one more time.
I’m not meant for you,
but I never asked more,
all I ever wanted
was that darling smile.

Betty Crocker

Little Miss Betty Crocker
cooked my dinner, and fed me spinach.
She moved around my kitchen,
like she knew where she was going.
I love to watch her move;
when she dances to Janis Joplin,
it’s just like Love.
Betty Crocker closes her eyes,
and sings along as she makes cookies,
and licks the dough from her fingers.
Little Miss Betty Crocker—
my favorite cook and mistress.


Each new face passing by
looks mysterious and scared,
wary of me, the stranger,
spouting ideas never heard.

My blinking eyes stare,
searching for a human connection
where all I see are lies
and scared restrain.

I feel alien here
in my own home,
where I recognize every face
but I’m even more alone.