from Tonight This Is Our Last Song
Supervision of your favorite moves. Awards for what.
Agreeing to be harmless. No need to call it out.
Two ideas at once, but repeatedly. Double-stop.
Said I had to choose. Stop acting like my manager.
He married a woman with the same name as his mom.
Real music in commercials. Saving money staying home.
I’m a teacher all the time. Queen of Swords has an evil twin.
Detached from the king. A flower under the throne, hinged.
I believe he has a right to. Always famous, perfectly drunk.
Give me a downpour to worry about. A three-night stand.
Ditch floods. The landscaping washes into the parking lot.
You forget on purpose and it’s so gone you’re surprised.
He stopped asking. She stirred the pot. Time to go.
A long month in a skinny bed. A little bloodstain.
I know I want to say no, but like to watch you push.
You think I’m begging but you are. Because I made you.
Know your weakness. Biography is useful.
I got high and told you to Google me. Static-vision.
But it was the answer to your question. Think again—
me red in the face, more rain, a nap in a jacket.
You stopped saying please. I became chivalrous.
Then you’re liable to pop off on somebody. Think
about what won’t happen. No interruption, no delay.
A bad time for a lecture. Remember I’m a stranger.
Fear that I don’t belong to any place. Explain how we are done.
Maybe when I was a child, I shoplifted in the drugstore.
I wasn’t thinking about that. The trouble with people you admire.
Mountain driving. Getting too close to things that aren’t mine.
Deep concern over catching. Let a person be sweet and feathery.
I got nothing but little-girl-style love for you baby. A fish face.
A psychic said I’ll get what I want, but that wasn’t what I asked.
Eavesdrop on your silly bedroom voice. The best you can do.
Every first day of school, pretend to be the new girl.
Affording to start over. Were you ever the poor kid.
I am spending all the ideas about security on nice food.
Hothouse flower doing dangerous work prematurely.
I don’t want to hear about your soul or your hangover.
A man asked me if I was a schoolteacher. I’m not sure.
Identity poetics for everyone, in every landlocked state.
I said. I teach college. He said that’s what it means.