A voice like a stone --
hitting harder than the freezing rain
against the driver's side window.
I mimic it with my eyes
feigning a closed lip disguise.

Its just hard to get, i guess.
in tristesse,
calls to confess.

I'm just a bay area baby
butting heads with hawaii in my
hot sandy dreams - kicking the covers off
far away from here, the tile floor
strewn with fragments of leaf litter.
There's no more glitter and
blue shine up to eyebrows, no more
limited, too cotton candy perfume.
I drink the bittersweet.

a bit of arsenic, molasses and honey
leopard print mug of coffee
brewed in routine by sisters who love me.

Damn the nighttime early morning,
when all I want to do is rescue pups
in the forest like I used to -
wear dresses without bras and have as much hair
on my legs as i did on my head.
But I'm grown up already and goldenrod,
with no one to tell me to go to bed.
so forget.

when it comes down to it, all i know for sure
is love.