One Foot Out the Door

With one foot out the door,

I make sure you're behind me,

That you're still there with me,

Leaving to stay together,

In a rush to make new memories

So that we have something to share,

Or something to take with us.

But What About the Woman Wearing It?

The hat is two sizes too big for her haircut.

I don't know what color it used to be,

But now it's a light shade of fallingapart,

The little I can see between patches and buttons

Which hold it together and speak for it:

“12th Annual Farm Festival,”

“PETA: People Eating Tasty Animals,”

“Mean people suck,”

“Bush/Voldemort '08,”

“:)”

It lost all its seams to be falling apart at.

It is better than new.

Lame Walking Dream

I walked from task to task with no memory.

It was better than work, but a lame walking dream,

and now it's time to clean off a long day's grime,

The stains and the stubble of twelve hours' time.

I stand at the sink, half awake or still dreaming.

It doesn't seem like my hands doing the cleaning.

This thing could be sublime, and it might just be weird,

But that guy in the mirror would look better with a beard.

(F)utility

I am waking up and rushing away,

Off to mark time 'til the end of my day.

I'm working, just to make money, just to spend it,

and borrowing more–there's not enough to lend it.

I am pushed, pulled, and put off, harried and dismissed.

I am the workforce, wondering if this is all there is.

Not Even Boyfriend Material

Promising forever, to have and to hold

Always struck me as boring and old.

I promise that I will never say the words

“Don't look up.” I'll stare in another direction

Until you start staring the same way.

I promise you'll ask “what are you staring at?” a lot.

I promise that I will not bring my chainsaw

Inside your house or apartment.

I promise I will never put money first,

Second, or under anybody's mattress.

I promise that I will never read your mail.

Sometimes, I may choose to read mine.

I promise to tell every joke I make

Until I know that you heard it.

I promise to keep my eye on the ball;

I promise to keep my head in the game;

I promise to keep my hands to myself,

At least when I'm playing non-contact sports.

I promise that if you rank a day's two weirdest questions,

That I will have asked both of them.

I promise that I will forget things,

But I'll probably forgot I told you so.

Colorblind

I used to tell people that I was colorblind.

I won't say our backgrounds are no different; that's not right,

But people around me always talk about people as black and white,

While in my experience, they may be dark or may be light,

But they are always brown, just samedifferent enough to delight.

Just Don't Over-Oil It

In the wrong hands, it is soft and smooth.

In better hands, it feels like a notebook

An old one, the cover soaked in butter,

Knowledge and natural smoothness,

What I once thought love would be,

What I wish I could be.

In the right hands, it only feels like nirvana,

Universal truth.