Forget it

To love someone it takes forgetting

that you are a singular body;

stopping at the skin;

glad to be within a feeler you can feel.

This I, that you.

Take forgetting seriously.

That you ever pushed someone’s button:

that something should come after.

Across the Room

Her hair hangs

wavy in a careless way.

She smiles

and it’s like her face

was made for it.

She smokes

for the chemicals.

She got a gun

as a family present,

and thinks about what she’ll do

if the dead rise.

Those dark sunglasses

fit her style well,

but her bright eyes are

worth seeing whenever possible.

Tackling other women

on a field—one way

she spends her time.

She enjoys a good pun

(even a bad one).

She’ll toy with you if you seem

too gullible, but only

to have a little fun.

Station G

Three feet to my left

there's a girl I just met.

We’re on a train to the same place.

Her eyebrows are sharp, red,

and dangerously appealing.

I wonder if she has noticed

the way I look: a tired, lazy traveler

at the tail-end of the winter sensation.

Her cheeks are bright and disarming.

I wonder if she has noticed

the way I am looking: that I wouldn’t mind

if she proposed to me,

though I might not say yes.