Gray

This is the kind of day I love
The rain is touching everything
It makes me feel quiet
Though my music is loud
And I want it louder
I could be alone all day like this
Being in love with silence
Alone with my thoughts wandering
Wondering about this strange world
Everything being so outside
My foggy window sill- gray
Under the heavy pensive sky

1-99

The Italian

her voice is sweet (sick)
and from the other room
I hear nothing but motion
I thought this would be a new situation
she giggles on the cell phone
which voice does she perform this scene for
I guess it makes no difference
if I am sitting alone
on the couch watching her
suckface with an Italian
(he cooked us dinner)
I take my cue to exit
God- I feel sick to hear her smiling, flaunting
sexual prowless-things I lack in great proportions
but you try going to be the foreigner
in Northern Cali- or central Portugal
see if you feel a bit ill when you are
an unsuspecting intruder in her
world of many sensualities to be expressed
in this moment while you
are digesting your pasta and waiting
on the couch alone
go to your room girl, I have company
I must show my gratitude
you see this is the way it goes in my world
I painted my nails here
But I hate the color
I can feel them pushing out from the tips
God- I can hear the taptaptap of the quick motion
And I wait while she catches up
and pretend this is what I came here for.

1-4-99