a christmas wish list

the moon is indifferent to iPhones, cellulite on thighs,
what you looked like when you woke up this morning
bruised from dreaming

i have a case of ocular disorientation that mixes up waxing and waning
(so i think our love grows when it is really diminishing)

my body is tied to the moon
like the way i am tethered to old poems
but all this food coloring is fucking it up

now my flow is out of sync
in the infinity found in any given moment of sleep
and the television just brays emptiness

all i want this year is an iUnplug
an iFindMyself
an iSomeRealFuckingHumanConnection

is there an app for that?


phone booth

soon we’ll go the way of phone booths, obsolete and useless
pretty postcard pictures that people call quaint and charming

i held you to my ear knowing that so many others had done the same
waited for your voice that had spilled into other heads

grimy earlobes and rings of wax
somebody else’s breath caught in the receiver

i pressed my hand against the glass
ready for my costume change

becoming someone else is easy
becoming yourself is what’s hard

eventually all phone numbers will be forgotten.