old poems, poetry

six.

too much coffee

make friends

spend time being pretty

make prettier babies

raise them,

ruin them,

start over?

possibly.

please tell me your secrets 

then i’ll feel better.

hopefully we’ll die young 

miss all those wrinkles 

lipstick on cigarettes and

 coffee cups.

let’s avoid dirty dishes,

old heartbreaks 

and lonesome strip malls.

     LISTEN! those trees we smell, they will fulfill you.

     Those shifting clouds, they will uplift you.

     LISTEN! to those notes she makes 

     with her strong delicate fingers…

she’ll do it anyways

even when you’re not around.

I wish those hands were mine. 

liz acid 2002

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