New Poems!

Date with a New York girl

She talked with her hands. Long black
hair bounced in a ponytail, as she picked
her words carefully through a mouthful of

How can she expect me to hold that gaze?
That big hazel gaze: her eyes get to
wander during her turn at conversation,

but mine are supposed to stay focused, not shifty,
drifting off to watch lips sucking cola through a

You and me both

The fire drill has doomed us all. More
often than not, it’s just a test. Odds
are we don’t burn to death and

no one wants to look the fool.
I don’t smell smoke; stay sitting

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s