On Squirrels

an anonymous person once told me that men are like squirrels.
sometimes, when they find the best nuts
the most perfect nuts
they decide they are too lovely to eat
and hide them away for a later day.

but keeping them hidden becomes diffiicult
and they wonder, is the nut still as lovely?
so they go back, dig it up, inspect it
savour its presence for a short while
and then bury it again.

for knowing the nut is there
and exists
even buried deep in the earth
is comfort enough.

I have two squirrels. Two men who have buried me away.
Occassionally they return and dig me up
tell me how much i was (am) loved
how they wished they had enjoyed me when they could

but now, its just too difficult
complicated
the twists and turns of life has left the consumption of nuts
from long ago
impossible.

but, because i have a weakness for squirrels
when the earth above me starts to move
and i know they have come to dig me up
i always

seem to answer them
to show them what they missed
to let them taste the sweet meat of me.

and so the earth above me rustles now
and i feel the anticipation of
getting only the best of someone
for a short time
but
but
i think i'm getting to the point
where being alone
is better than a short time
with even the best of the squirrels

I write this today to remind myself later. I write this today to remind myself later.
We are in the midst of change my girl.
And someone out there wants you forever.
And the short term is not a long term solution.
I just want to be aware this time.
I just want to be awake
not in a sleepy fog of a long rest under a deep soil.

On sympathetic friends

Him:
URGENT!!! HE'S STILL HERE!! HOW DO I GET RID OF HIM?? HELP!!

Me:
Tell him you have the AIDS

Him:
WHAT??

Me:
Ok, ok, crabs then

Him:
That's not funny.

Me:
I dunno, I'm laughing....

Outgoing

Me:
I think I peed on my sweater.

Her:
As opposed to...?

Me:
The toilet??

Her:
Well. It's absorbent, right??

Yogging, anyone?

Her:
I'm thinking of trying this new fad called jogging. I believe it's jogging or yogging. It might be a soft j, I'm not sure

Me:
THAT I have to see. Do you jog in heels with a fag in your mouth???

Her:
I actually haven't picked my outfit out yet....

The Electoral Disease...

Me:
It's kind of like a bad rash...

Him:
like the Quebec Nationalists

Me:
no, thats like herpes. You think it's gone then IT COMES BACK

Morning

I wake.

It's a quarter before the alarm
breaks fitful sleep.

I stretch-
then remember that
I'm not alone here.

Quietly
softly
I wriggle from tether
and creep to the bathroom...

this floor creaks.

I laid it all out there
the blubber
the penchant for
unmatched socks-
the scars
the lined up vials on the counter...

the space mask
the unwashed dishes
the magazines under the chair...

the book was found and unmentioned even.

I stood with arms crossed-defiant
door slightly ajar-waiting

and yet...

I declined to talk about it-
tired of talk-
of introspection-

so instead we laughed
and ate the ice cream I made
and listened to that awful crackle
his shoulder makes when he turns it just so--

and the light turned to dark
and the dark turned to light
and I remembered all the things I thought I forgot...

and the note was scribbled on a scrap of paper
and I went out into the morning without a thought
of....