It Ain't Published, And It Ain't Good.

i want us to travel
across this map filtered paradise,

eating new food together,
buying new clothes together,
learning new words together,
shaking new hands.

heating our curls straight
between two plates
to strike the boys eyes

as pretty.

not the same girl as before
i am sure,
sarah, caitlin, diane, marissa,
whatever

we have no need for names,
just earrings and drinks and boys
and new skin
and new shoes
and new food
and new tables,

and you will see new words
and the time at which
they grace my pen
and you will read my stories
of the world

of our adventures,
growing slowly in and out
of each other,
curly hair raving in the wind,
the thought that roots like
these came from genes the same,

and we will laugh and dance
and you will see my words,
and you will see that poetry
my friend is not bashing or scared
or lonely or desperate

but a photo of my face
with your face smiling in the background,
our hair fading into each others,

noone able to tell where it started.