Characteristics of a Gifted Child

when I was twelve
my brain
was too good
so i drank
because at least
with the drunks
I could talk about something -
with the books i got bored,
eventually;
with the drunks I never
did because they gave me
something to write about.

Murder (Sorry Mother)

when I was twelve
my reflection time resulted
in a paper full of the
word H A T E
in bright red
from one corner to the other,
from the top end to the bottom,
and the entire time I wrote it
I thought of my mother.

Midland Town Docks

i know where you keep your boat,
someone told me,
someone told me you keep your boat at a dock
near my house where i live -
your boat is kept in a place near where i live
and you come here twice a year to use it.

i come from a town attracting tourists from the city
who come here to be on water that is clean
because all of the water in the city has been used;
the water has become dirty in your home
so you come to where i live twice a year
and use my water.

sort of like the way you use
my body twice a week while we
dwell not far from each other
in this cold, city town.

in the tourist town where i grew up
people seperate depending on the time of year -
in the summer people come into the streets
and work their trades,
in the winter they hide in their homes
leaving the streets to freeze over -
every so often some members come out and not
seeing the coldness of the street
fall down despite them.

i heard you don't dock your boat in Midland anymore;
it reminds me of the feeling i got when i left your place
the last second time of the week we met - we haven't spoken
since because we traded goods and now we have no reason
to keep each other at all.

Stop Calling Me

Do you know what pigeon feels like
when it is between your teeth?
Rubber.

Do you know what pigeon looks like when
it has been shot dead?
Like a sidewalk full of language barriers.

No, I never said I wanted to kill all of the pigeons.
Why did you kill all of the pigeons!

Like: When Can We Meet Us Again? You Will Call Me
Tommorrow? We Can Meet Us At Noon?
No.

Like: just eat the fricken food because you're in a nice place
with nice people and even though the bird tastes like rubber,
everyone else is eating it.
Tastes fine.

Like: good morning skatter, guess what I did this morning,
I killed a pigeon because I know you hate them. Come outside
and see.

Rage ie. Pop Culture

no. you fuck,
i don't have time for you.
i was in the city
with some people
to get away from
the likes of you.

my father orders rocks,
orders tractors to be moved
to calm his shaking limbs,
to loosen stiffed up limbs,
to make his mind off of
the legs he has not gotten -
my father is my friend.

i think you're a fuck sometimes,
you know that.

i met a person and i went
on a date, a date where leather
pants were accepted and patterned
tights were worn and where I
ran and I tripped and I fell
and did a face plant.

you're a real fuck.
take a look at my knee you fuck,
there was a cut there and now it is
scabbed over. i had a friend
who slept with a boy i loved and she taught me
to destroy the likes of you.

fuck. i'd like to shut you up.

i came to the city to get away from
the likes of you.
the city is a place where people like you
dwell - I'll fuck you up girl.

Come Not Often

I slammed a boulder through the window.
I did, I got a crane and I learned how to use it
and I picked up a rock and I dropped it into the
window and I smashed it.
Twice I have been witness to the repositioning
of large rocks, both moved by men whose opinion
I liked and both times I have been shocked
by the desire to move such largeness into unnatural,
man-made forms.

The glass was perfectly clear and had been washed
with windex by a man in white who had been
sitting in my head.
I ate an apple and then I smashed the
window and I stood at a safe distance
so when the grass cracked, not a single piece
would scrape my skin.