Tuesday, April 06, 2010


If I respond
that means you made a promise

Or were a promise
I expect to be filled with glory

on the final day when
I lift up my shirt

and so many plastic rosaries
flicker cheap paint across my ribcage

and its capture.
Did you take a photo with

your phone? I expect
no less anymore

my privacies are those
slow moments when the party

is just at its end but yet
not and you avert

your technologies and do
something human like

take my hand and say
I've always liked the way you

and I converse, the way
your shoulders lean in listening

and how you get so
hyped you spit.

That's the kind of friend I need
right now. A noticer.

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