=robidoux

i'm gulping cheap champagne
out of expensive crystal
celebrating the ability to breathe/breathe
[how do you spell that?]
celebrating survival
as i’ve sold 18 or 32 ice coffee varieties
at a christian bookstore
dreaming of a red bicycle
no one wants to buy me
[maybe tomorrow - i'll splurge on myself]
the 'saved' shunned me - i digress again to the christians
maybe cause I showed too much tan line
from my independence day burn
maybe it was the eye shadow i never choose to wear
the skirt
hypo
crites
i write letters
to a paper substitute
the
pulse
of
my
heart
all the while I worry about HER
three time zones away as she
mourns in her poetry i
i know
i know, i KNOW
her words are real
i know the sting
i know the sting though i can’t
figure out how to describe the hurt
of that crushing breath stealing anguish of
heartbreak [can someone else?]
that makes her write …
"i wouldn’t love me either"
[we all love her]
but she believes the lie

hand me a match
i'll light his pants on fire