I posit that if opposites attract
and my suppositions are fact,
the odds aren't stacked against us.
We must consider: high IQs and low self-esteem
(only dating men with Master's degrees).
Sure, you're impeccably dressed, 
but I'm more impressed with
the words you stress and your best
guess at the name of that book
I'm obsessed with.

Protesting beliefs I've held with conviction,
my addiction to fiction causing friction between us
(not literally, of course, I'm forced to complain 
that the  source of lips curled with disdain
is your choice to refrain from such matters).
No amount of caffeine nor amphetamines
could make it seem like the machines behind
our means of reproduction could result in anything
other than mutually-assured destruction.

 I miss you.

And I miss your
black footprints
making their way
through every room
in that dark house
and circling back
and circling back
and circling back.

Black fingerprints
on every surface,
until your portrait
had consumed your
entire living space
entire eating space
entire breathing space.

And we could do
nothing except
smudge it and
smudge it and
smudge it and
it would only
get blacker.

I miss you.

If I 
a m_
all 
ri
ght
the
n wha
t
exa  ctl    y
is 
l e f t?

Adonis in red, his head in his hands
struggling to understand the headlines - 
(his mind too cluttered with deadlines)
instead finds solace in the abolishment of
the state and as politics inflates, he waits.


Aphrodite sighed, the crowds outside
cried in fury, a century of thought left
to a jury of peers near close to madness -
those that practice rhetorical prayer just to
discuss the surreptitious affair between
the tortoise and a hare.

Apollo followed the flames and complaints
that engulfed the streets completely, - 
discretly he walked through empty alleys
though sadly no one told him what to unlearn
or how to return to normal.

Atlas Shrugged.

I thought all along
that I was looking 
for an escape,
though now I'm not
quite sure I was running
from anything at all.
I'm too busy marking time
while the earth moves beneath my feet - 
she makes mountains from the molehills
like cancer from a beauty mark,
but there is nothing to be done
except move my legs
up and down
and let my hips become the victim.

The constant 
cacophony
of consonants
is calming - 
I am comfortable
with the anger
and the banging
or heavy thoughts
into hollow minds.
My sins are absolved
with gin and tonic
and the chronic
throbbing of my heart
in my chest.