June 21, 2006
She was cigarette years old.
She was looking for
one thing in this world
that wasn’t fake and
affected.
And when she found it,
she was gonna accuse it of being
fake and
affected.
She was gonna put its face on a t-shirt.
Then she was gonna take it in her bedroom
and let it take the t-shirt off.
She was gonna leave before it woke up
but not before taking a camera-phone picture to show
her co-workers.
She was gonna name her cat after it,
then get bored of the cat.
She was gonna make noises about
moving to Portland
to whoever would pretend
to listen.
She was gonna daydrink, nightdrink,
take the train home,
and cry on the floor
while writing a blog entry in her head about
how she cried on the floor.
Then she was gonna fall asleep with the TV on.
(But she doesn’t have a TV,
and she’ll tell you as much,
if you’ll only pretend
to listen.)