They were there a long time
in folders
my poets and writers
their work, their lives, their thoughts
and when I'd done compiling and thanking
I deleted them, the folders
to add new ones
but then, I had forgotten a detail
and I clicked Control plus Z, the reverse shortcut keys
and there they were back again
in folders
my poets and writers
their works, their lives, their thoughts
How I wish there were some reverse shortcut keys
to bring back
all the loved ones I've lost.
Watching traffic outside our apartments is like watching life. I see them come with great confidence and speed and bright lights. I know there are two speed breakers there, and I can see them slow down, literally stop and go over these, then they're travelling...but not fast anymore. They're slower, more careful, almost floundering when they draw closer to our gates. Beyond our gates, to the right, is the main road and I know they'll pick up speed once they reach there and turn a corner....
My ink is different
when it dries there will not be invisible messages
the space I occupied will be
just as blank as before I was born
for I've chosen to forgive all
And to do that
I've chosen to erase my memories
how can I have written anything at all on my slate
when by forgiving time erased itself?
you never hurt me
And I never lived.
Pink flowers that can never in my garden grow
so wild and with such joyous abandon
He looks over her shoulders at the pretty girl on the platform while
his arms are still around her and perfunctorily smiling
at the something silly she's saying, laughing at "I don't know what she said"
she looks up at him adoringly in a relationship never meant to be
The train moves on...
