On the Road (v2)

Stuck
Jack Kerouac
So wanted to be Allen
Allen Allen Allen
Allen and Proud
Allen and Naomi
Allen and Buroughs
Allen and Jack
Spitting poems out of the good side of my mouth
from my hole in your back pocket

Dear John (v2)

Kindly remind me I have disappeared
If you happen to see me
I no longer am

The girls never liked me anyhow
They are probably happier I'm not around

I never really existed, at any rate

Tell them, kindly, it is time they
Stop playing games and seeing ghosts

It is time they married nice boys
like their fathers
And had sons like their brothers
And wore dresses like their mothers

Intensive Care (v3)

So it is now on dry winter nights
when it seems as though everything
life-like is cracked and broken
I go searching under sinks
and in boxes bent from disuse
for a little black dog, the creature
who diligently kept my secrets,
and would lick my sore feet to sleep.

Bridgett's House (v3)

Her mom found me on the steps and
We drove home in betrayed silence

In our tin can apartment
I collapsed on your bed dejected
Sinking under the weight of being ten
a stranger in my own life

It was then that you told me
it was time to start
acting my sex

friend's comments (v1)

It's Monday morning. I already shaved my head out of wantoness. I drove home in a sleep storm last night. I may have dreamt the traffic accident and the waiting between big rigs for bodies to be removed. Got in after one. Realized it was too late to call anyone to tell them that the world had changed. Lanes shift ahead. Be prepared to stop. Stop. Fell asleep to soft snow and the sound of the heater shuttering on and off. Ten people in world, maybe, know my name and none of them know what I am going to eat for breakfast this morning.