SO SORRY

friends age and grow
farther apart, always
moving,
either by truck
or through life
events.

landing somewhere on
business the question
becomes
to call or not to call,
a form of what do we have
in common, with the answer
a resounding I do
not know.

should we
know we are suffering
the same thing
at the same time
we might
meet to be sure
how far apart
we are.

to say:
i am

not like you.

AN EXPERIMENT

I took one of my poems below, "CHASE," and used iMovie to try and make something interesting. You be the judge if I succeeded. (The music is the Postmarks' "Let Go.)"

Someday I'll actually figure out how to make the music fade out a bit more subtly...

REPEAT AFTER ME

what's worth-
less is living
like there is no
tomorrow.

then
even when
tomorrow comes
it's one more day
to waste away.

SLUMMING

it's 1983 and
she has a mohawk.

you have no business
downtown; you live
in the suburbs,
and black
eye-liner can't
change that.

it's 1983 and
she's a bartender
in a punk club,
working class, and
she can see
through your fake ID
suburban
bullshit.

"what do you want,
honey?"

you could tell her,
but you don't know how
to say it

yet.

WHAT A GREAT TRICK

what a great trick
if somebody sick
wrote a book
"how to stay alive"
and actually survived.

it might ease my dread
if somebody dead
called on the phone
to describe their new home.