the sound of a skipping record

dear martha
everything is gross
but you want to know something funny?
(maybe this is funny
maybe not
you be the judge)
the other day i had a box of orange juice
and pretended it was very hot
like a potato
hot orange juice! i yelled
as i tossed it from hand to hand
it fell and i picked it up
saying that it was still good
it's still alive
we'll make those points back
good hustle team
then some girl asked me
what are you on?
but the answer is nothing
which i guess no one finds interesting
even you
martha
this is sickening to write
i wish you really knew what i thought
martha martha martha
i want to write your name a hundred times
and each time
what am i really saying
but please
are we not entitled?
a short story by me
the end

A Night In Winter

lying on the carpet
where everything is right
she rolls over giggling
not like a child
she is too dangerous
fingers grip the bristles of the floor
her hair is the color of desperation
that dies young
but is hard to forget
like an old wound
before a storm
and i can still see
that moonlit face
and the wind
whispering
i know
i know