2nd note left on bart

maybe this is all a mistake.
please, please tell me you dont think this is a mistake.
because i love you.

note left on bart 10-20-09

(in cursive)


i love you. i love your concern for my feelings.
howd you know somethings wrong?
i kissed you the best i could...

project/project

leaving love notes, note notes, and kinda notes behind on the bus, sometimes with names, sometimes with my bis card sometimes in cursive (mostly in cursive), sometimes real, sometimes fake (mostly real), all times making me smile, get up and run quick styles off the bus up the stairs, peek back to see if someones reading it (mostly not) and it changes my whole day. like im getting things off my chest. i wonder who will pick them up but mostly i like leaving them. the writing and leaving. im going to do this as much as possible.

like wolves

the perfect monday. long walk with vito. back into pajamas. time to think. no cigarettes on the deck, just clear lungs and your delicious smell in my hair, this morning im thoughtful and cant stop. theres nothing, wrong dear, i dont think..nothing that cant be fixed anyway.
just give me time. and bon iver. and silent mondays.

ET phone home

b tells me i need new shoes. but i only want to live in a world and have a job (or where THAT is my job) where i can wear THIS.








http://www.nytimes.com/packages/html/style/fashionweek/runway.html#spring_2010_mcqueen%20alexander


because looking like an alien is so hot for fall.

lesson plan

i take the book you made out for coffee, walk along clay until it crests over hyde and i can smile again, weave past grace cathedral, 40’s and shorts on the swing set and i fall in love with you at Front Porch drinking drinks with kumquats and rum, flicks of salt disappearing, lips pressed to mason jars, wrappers leftover from japanese candy, 111 minna, some girl’s gold necklace, lamp light reflecting, grey goose and art galleries, thick throated and insecure, while north beach vomits strip clubs and boutiques, scares away hipsters, and at 3am i make a home for you in the space between my breasts, mismatched fabrics hanging over head, cork board alley smiles and

what’s your name again?

mal practica

id give you the shirt off
my back, youre saying
all playful puppy eyed shoulders
give me those freckles, put
them in my mouth
raindrops are eyelash
hugs, keep
making lists, lover, we'll
get it all done
babies, birds and that
lady in an orange dress
were so distractable
in our pigeon holes, wet naps
and canteens
be my life preserver
formaldahide me in your promises
that space between your neck and back
like
wild horses and kittens

please, lets fly to paraguay
shoreline light flirting
with hands wrapped up
at the
baggage claim
dont take everything so
personal
dearest darling bear boy
were a two person
mime troupe, come
talk to me in hands