2. there was never a triceratops.
the long grey memories of dinosaurs are
lies prodded from the soil.
you believe because you want to.

if i took up writing poems
in order to interest girls,
well, i probably would have
done better with cross stitch

the money's not so bad
though - so far i'm not
more than a couple grand
in the hole
on account of poetry

and i'm mostly tolerated in
polite company, provided
i don't talk about it
too much.

i'd like people to
believe i've got some
incredible secret life,
something either fascinating
or scandalous, at least
by the standards of
what goes on back home

but honestly the closest
i've ever come is
smoking a bunch of
grass and drinking too

i guess i did once date a
girl who hadn't even been raised
a christian, and i'm pretty sure somebody
was scandalized when i moved in with that
other girl

but these things are
hardly plotting the
overthrow of anything
that hasn't been overthrown
some years since,

and anyway i guess they
all assume i've learned
my lesson by now

and maybe they're right
it's been a long time
since i thought seriously
about the prospect of
arrest; i can't even
remember the last
injury i did to public
property, let alone the
public imagination

it's always the last minute
and i'm always the last one leaving

more: letters

p1k3 / bones / 2