I’m so mad at you that I’m writing a Russian novel about the way you blew me off

She was my friend when you weren’t
not only did she say I could visit her
but that I could stay for months

you didn’t even say
it’d be nice to see you, but
so now you are the downtrodden character
in my novel, who will eventually die
all alone in the Siberian forest
from frostbite, maybe, I haven’t decided yet

but the important part is the phone in your hand
which will be bagged for evidence
by the local police department who will contact me
because after all these years
I was the person you ended up texting
at the end of your life, you will think of me

and I will say, sorry
I don’t understand Russian
What is this, some sort of a scam
no, I don’t want your prince’s money
in a lump sum and I wont give you my information
and I will hang up on them even though they said your name
it will have been too heavily accented
and too far lost by then for me to comprehend


Just a note

My fear of violence is not the same

as your fear of a tarnished reputation

and you can’t argue that i didn’t feel scared

or accuse my poetry of being a misrepresentation

Or actually, you know what?

you can! Because I am no longer listening

and I hope you’re not policing my blog anymore

just because that would kinda make you a stalker

wouldn’t it? Or at least a freak? Or at least a piece of garbage?


A Loving Audience

It was the exact poem i hesitated to read

because it was so cold and hard and angry

to this audience who had been nothing but loving

that made the elderly woman approach me

to say: “I related to that poem personally.

I just want to thank you for giving a voice

to what I kept quiet, when I should’ve screamed.”

Meaningless Gestures

How about when you wave to a driver

Because you think they slowed down to let you go

But really they were turning to go down a different road

And just forgot their goddamn turn signal
All of the comaradery of the gesture goes

you don’t feel so friendly anymore

While your hand remains in motion 

Waving to and fro

The Unavailable Waitress

You want to enrage me? Engage me in a discussion
about george orwell, ernest hemingway
and the blue lives matter campaign

you want to endear yourself to me?
Don’t assume anything. Don’t ask
what im doing
before you ask me
if i want to go get a drink
because, then,
i have to make an excuse
just ask me if i want to
go out with you
ill tell the truth

and stop trying
ive already met all the men
i want to in this lifetime
too many have called me
a waste of their time
just for taking a minute
to talk to them
they act like
i owe them something

no, you dont want
to be my friend.
ive played that game
i know how it ends
a conversation into
a price on my head

i am a person
i have people friends
who don’t want anything from me
but a phone call now and then