42

Fuck everybody.
How's that for a minute.

41

I used to believe
that it would be enough,
that we could solve every problem,
if we could talk.

I'm beginning to sincerely doubt that talking
solves Graduate School
and the puzzle that is the
arching rest of our lives.

I am speechless, when I thought it would help most.

40

I am a boy
with music in his ears
and a closet full of clothes.

I have a half-written paper,
and five ex-girlfriends,
two of which I've really loved
with all the yearning
port-tied one-pound burritos
my stomach can churn into knots.

39

Much to my chagrin (and dismay)
these weeks were not an eight-soap endeavor
but a three-pack.

There were three movements.
Normal
Sad
Thinking of you from the view of the sink
warming my hands so that when I got into bed
I could hold you without you complaining of the cold.

38

After the storm
that was more like a
whipper wool dagger,
I still feel numb.
I still see happy couples laughing
and doing all the happy things we used to do:
holding hands,
having sex
(though I don't see that),
and making drinks,
and watching sunsets from
parking lot curbs.
Oh how I want that.
Oh how I don't want anyone else to have that.