Sunday, April 12, 2009

by Matthew

Pickin off rust

waitin for the 10 bus,
Charlie's gone again.

No buffalo jerky
no readin from that Hugo book
nobody throwin an arm over my shoulders
like he use to
Charlie's gone again.

Guess I'll figure out
my own algebra

Guess I gotta laugh out loud alone

Guess I'm gonna hafto walk
because the dang bus ain't comin
Charlie's gone again.


  1. Thalia! What a great idea for a blog and I can't wait for the launch - I'm waiting to buy my books then. Bravo on everything! Angela

  2. Baby T
    If I were a stamp I'd lick myself
    and be Priority Mail,
    coast-to-to coast in two days,
    to be with you.

    If I were a thought I'd tap, tap, tappity, tap,
    shift, tap, tap, tap, enter, over the net to you.

    If I were series of sounds, I'd rhubarbrhubarbsodawaterbottle, rhubarbrhubarbsodawaterbottle,
    mumble fast over the telephone wires
    across the continental U.S. to you.

    If I were a piece of luggage
    (definitely not a tacky Betsy Johnson bag),
    I'd bump, slump bump, bump, bump, slam flop,
    BOS to bump, bump, bump, bang, slam, flop, squish, bump, slam flop,
    damn stuck in ORD, rerouted bump,
    bump, slam flop, bump bump to SBO
    and open myself to you.

    If I were an editor
    I'd take out that last stanza
    because my body hurts
    just imagining it.

    If I were a text message I'd
    silently enter 444#55566688833#8
    and bounce from cell to cell to cell
    ad infinitum
    to your cell display
    and display my love for you.

    But I am not. My heart-to-heart-laugh is
    connected to a body that is stuck
    here in New Hampshire,
    wishing, hoping otherwise, knowing I'm not.

    Baby A