You are like an onion. If someone were to chop you into pieces it would probably make me cry.

This morning I sat waiting for you to get out of your public speaking class. Whilst rummaging through my purse, I found a package of heart-shaped candies left over from St. Valentines Day. I was hungry. My stomach churned like a cat in an ice-bath. I was hungry and the heart candies were small and shiny like beads. The were smooth, and red and pink. The package opened with a soft crinkle. They were tiny in my hand, and I was so hungry, and your class was so long. I popped the handful of them into my mouth. They were smooth, and round and they tasted like human hearts. The sharp, mineral taste of blood filled my mouth. As I ate them I felt the chewy spring of the sinew against my teeth. It was like like licking a wound. It was like eating a piece of steak, if the steak was raw, and still attached to a live cow. Then your class was over and you wanted to talk about Darfur. I spit out the candies.

Wrong Side

This morning I awoke to find in my bed: 35 cents in nickels, one forgotten red mitten, a dead turtle dove, two tickets to "The Barber of Seville", a pair bloodstained cutoff shorts, a half eaten Tupperware dish of pasta salad, a very frightened looking tenor, 3 incandescent light bulbs, the plumbers section of the yellow pages, and my shoes.

Throughly Postmodern Millie pt. 1

Hipsters drink Coke and wear 10 gallon hats. Or they will, at some point. My efforts to define and classify the elements of Hipsterism began after a encounter with an acquaintance in which he offered me a swig from the ball-jar he was using as a water bottle. False, it began when I noticed the frequency of my friends buying animal t-shirts from Value Village.

Though my knowledge of eastern wisdom comes primarily from what I read in "The Tao of Pooh", I believe that Lao-tse, the Chinese philosopher, was the world's first hipster. "Those who know the way, do not speak it. Those who speak the way do not know it." Such is the Taoist proverb and the ultimate challenge with defining what makes a hipster.

Things I Have Not Written for Kelly

1.
In the morning frost
Footprints melt like dreams
Erased by the dawn
2.
We are the snowflakes
The bliss of mortality
Melting on warm tongues
3.
Said moth to himself
as the white light grew brighter
How fragile we are
4.
Owl called to Moon
night wind rustled the branches
Moon made no reply
5.
When the storm has passed
I stand barefooted and wet
Smiling at gray skies