letters are coming and going, a lot quicker than expected despite the royal mail... and a new poem is in the works as of tonight.

let's celebrate with an oldie, but a goodie:


Look at the absurdity and be happy with it.

Several months ago I was in Glasgow again. My two weeks: hilarious and pathetic and I guess well behaved. It was just a hand job and banter after ‘you’re pretty.’

Dearest,

Saturday afternoon, I’m spending it
alone with coffee – quite a
special gathering. Your last
letter blew me a kiss.
Glasgow, Texas, Italy.
Afternoons, I’m reminded of
the urge to smoke. Jet set,
moving out, going home, leaving.
Forgotten, can’t think of poems.
No stories, out of paper.
Hungover for a year.
Grad school, jobs, living …
Fuck this.
My room. A drink.

x

My virginity,


So I slept on, but he kept trying. He was an exception; bound to haunt me.
I had to focus, to go to bed and to get back to sleep.
This guy, he looked less sexy sitting next to me in bed.
Really terrible…and what went on between us physically-
I did snicker a bit. I laugh too much.
I got up for coffee (pot no. 2) and take responsibility for that.

So, yes again into the bedroom. Just really tired.

At home again.
Rain, traditional –
like Texas. Like it should be.
Just a lot of nothing.
The rain seems light enough,
but I started
writing you a letter to protect me.
It’s been a few days.
Peppermint, grey compromise
and handwritten books. Before I leave,
slightly worse. It already is. I’d
rather know when I will see you again, if I will…

x