Posted in Poems

it hurts

So, people thought that
I’m going to kill myself.

I’m not really a bad person.

I eat my lunch.
They actually determined that I’m Hungarian—
I just don’t understand how that’s applicable.
The acidity is there.

I have two tests today.

Right here, it hurts. But, it’s slowly going away.


Posted in Poems


In Canada, I can predict [sigh] with ninety-nine percent certainty that
there’s another bus behind us.

Do ya got a light?
Your body language is starting to tell me that you aren’t interested.

I just find it fun to do my hair.
When’s the last bus?
Should I be dramatic about it, kind of?
There’s another bus.

Roast? Yea, that sounds like a Sunday kind of dinner.


Posted in Poems

The Other Man

I called him and said,

When she forgets everything, that would put you in question.

It makes you feel nice,
so modern.
Excuse the lyrics,
I’m not just this little white girl.

I didn’t get off.