February 25, 2005 - 6:23 p.m.
Spirits are opening
all the front doors today.
The wind has turned sharp
after two days of spring.
I'm in the coffeeshop,
back in my self today.
Drunk in my love.
Bright as a bell.
That personalized hell
miles away.
You fix your eye on a thing--
"That will be mine,
and, remember,
I always
get what I want."
And your spellcharm
works.
Nobody doubted your abilites.
But
I back away from the game
and fell shriveled.
I've been living
day to day
with needs I didn't used to have.
Nicotine
lives in my little lungs, and I didn't even
smoke it.
Gabe is in transition,
feels volcano-tight,
ready to blow
Jenny's Pompeii village
off the map.
A certain sabotage.
I need a drink of caffeine because
I'm on both sides
of the glass ceiling.
I wave to myself
from the future.
It sets the room to spinning. It makes me want
to sit down.
We all want to be perfect,
and we are all disappointed
by this world's slow reaction time.
