Poetry · Writing

silver medal

there is no where to escape

all exits are blocked

and i hold my hands

wishing on a star that i’m not acquainted with

not yet;

for an answer

the pedestal is so lonely

second; third is a ghost

and first, first is somewhere else

here and no crowd or medals

just a box with white chalk numbers.

no one would believe me;

with all these opened doors

they never checked the locks

no one remembered those nights wandering

smoke in the air – silence

no one remembers the phone calls they never got

dialed and hung up dialed and hung up dialed

just to hear an answering machine

to feel the chills down your spine-

no one talks about it.

so we just sit on a couch a ghost, the one who got away

and me, a silver medal

Poetry · Writing

miscellaneous drawer

i’ll

find it in that third drawer from the left;

the miscellaneous drawer,

a ring (emerald) a pokemon card(hypno) candy rapper(snickers)

a day shoved away third from the left left to waste

a chase on a tuesday night wrinkled in time a page on a scrapbook for any wary traveler

to find:

brake light on third street dealing gambits and starting three like a warrior

marry her on the third street only put her to sleep not acting herself

to end up third to the left

found third to the left

to the left