i wish you would have studied spanish

lets have somber conversations about
art and movies
read tropic of cancer on the train
and talk about how utterly brilliant it
is, how organic
you feel
how about, you be a
cardiothoracic surgeon
and ill have a
cast on my foot and fancy x-rays
and well figure out how to
fix each other
its not your job, but
to the pretty girl
it seems inevitable
that you would love her, 9 to 5 her
flea market beauty
ceramic baby scarfing down
sunflowers
look at you, running
with stars on your arm
to the gorgeous brunette whom i thought was a whore on friday night
quit
being pushed around
youre still cheating
bookstores
returning them read
i make great bagels in
mourning
on blossom hill
cant we just
camp underneath surfboards, build
waves on our backs
and in tired dawn
scratch the parts the water touched