september

i take a lot of train rides

i go to a job for 8 hours

wake

there was that whole time
in 1999

i don't know

cold and wet and stuff

my face
was really close to pine needles

shark tooth necklace

i was blown a kiss in the park

the man said, 'hey cutie',

had his hands rolled up

in his sweatshirt

starts at morning

i have kelty tools

plenty of lumber

i'm pacing the grass,

the sound of work,

on my house going up

screwdrivers

i didn't slide my fingers through my hair full of shampoo

i woke up and ate pb&j, did laundry,
and removed my AC

last summer

when the marinara sauce
spit on to the white stove top,
you swayed your flower skirt
across the field
under the tall trees,
holding his hand.
it didn't matter that
your Latvian cousin had attractive
hair, he couldn't
laugh the same.
i go away from the dock
down the beaten, bouncing
trail; the shore tree's
roots spring.
the water makes chilled sounds
up out of the shades.

'these'

'Gustav' morphed from a 'tropical storm' into a 'hurricane'

i have a 'hopeless' feeling that feels 'good'

improvement

i think i owe the brooklyn public library $30 dollars
i have more than $1000

i see two men in 'vacation' shirts looking at a folded subway map
one of them puts a 'glamour' magazine away in his bag

the gowanus canal looks blue/green with rust stains

one of the men looked at me

breathless

the menus sleep

i think of mature trees.
they grew into parents.

my whiskey condensed
through the mason jar

the qualifiers bury themselves
in the sand
then burst free

a hedge dies in the mist
navigate the bottle

the bar ended on a bridge
a little more bar after the bridge

whatever

escaped in fear
perished in mud

out of the fudge,
they were groundless.

the pebble in the back
painted the mouth carmine.

looking at the dried mouth,
he felt the 'sometimes'

looking down,
the steel ring pushes up
along his shins and knees.

sunday night,
he took and passed the test
in his boxers.
wishing sweat wasn't
a green galaxy of love