i’m not sentimental


some girls turn
their roses
upside down

tie them together
at the knees
hang them by their

some girls
watch their flowers bleed
watch their faces
wane to colorlessness

some girls become
stranger still
to their
upright selves

some girls meet
while other girls

some loves
must be
whose sum must not
be saved


for Real Toads
and submitted to Verse Escape


I think of you once a month, Cheryl

at communion

I have to tell you
that the sweetest
dumbest girl
in front of me
swallowed her bread

and I wondered
if she waited
for the juice
she was like me
who couldn’t stomach
the stuff

if she
needed a Cheryl
to pinch her nose,
ward off gags
and upchucks
and whisper
“blood of Christ”


Playing it again with 55 for Real Toads

Monza Mia!

Some girls have a way of getting what they want.
And her Daddy knew it when he bought her a coupe.
So chirpy and sassy she called it her Tweety bird and
she could smoke any back alley cat with one pop of her magical clutch.
But fourth was her favorite gear for rolling down the highway with nothing but summer heat cooling the hotness of her seventeen-year-old self cutting through a jealous sun.
And do you think she ever saluted the power and prowess living behind her eyes as she checked her rear view mirror? Damn golden hair afire and tear-drop shaped side windows winking at the pile-up of lesser green-eyed cars she unknowingly left in her wake. Some girls! Some girls are yielded the damned right of way. Some girls go over the posted speed limit, but you just wave because they have cut-pile carpeting from front to back. And wouldn’t you love to see their back hatches swing open? You shift from love to hate for girls in their fast and flippant little sporty cars and shout,”Monza Mia!” It’s Italian for wow.

…[And after some body work]:

some girls get the coupe
chirpy and sassy with
magical clutch rolling
the highway with heat
of golden hair afire
tear-drop windows wink
at green-eyed cars in wake
some girls are yielded the right
some girls go over the limits
hatches swing, shift from love
to hate, from fast to flippant


First car memories prompt at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads