again

in our vain attempt
to portend affection,
we changed the clocks
so we no longer would know
the time we spent
faking it.

dude!

dear crazy eyes,
you must be high
to think that you
can swear at me
next to the espresso machine.

eclectic

the earthquake happened hours ago
but i have not moved
from this flowered couch

the clock, now resting on the floor
keeps track of my immobility

nothing hit me directly
although i almost wish it had
if only to be a legitimate distraction
from my infidelity

i continue my non-movement
in the eerie quiet
that always seems to follow disaster