the hollywood sign

laughs at me as I speed, di-

sheveled, down Sunset

//

low-pile carpet burns

my knees when I’m down on them,

not that you would care.

//

the THREE of them they

hold me hostage with anti-

cipation and want.

//

I’m still embarrassed,

that thing I said to you that

you don’t remember.

//

you touched me in those

dark sweet places but it was

just a midnight dream.

//

the thing on my desk

it says GRIEVANCE in all caps;

I think about sex.

//

give me three minutes

and 17 syllables

I’ll tell you what’s what.