07-15-2017, 09:52 AM
Edit 2:
We were sitting backs to the ledge
on the rooftop, and she began to scream at me,
she pushed me to topple her over the wall,
and onto the mattresses, that were stacked two high,
below the four story building's height.
Like a lady bug, she floated down to lie on her back,
as they do in grasses, when they look like they’ve passed away.
she was very upset with me,
with her sloppily arranged gibson girl hair.
She landed, on her floral pattern softness
stood and shouted, "Where is my castle?!"
stomped up her own stone steps, and to her own door,
she hated her room, and I laughed on the roof,
as she shouted at her now strange paintings of hers,
and she made little quarter turns, and peered through her apartment,
and we fought over morning coffee,
of which I couldn't finish,
though it was Nicaraguan,
and had hailed from an acquaintance's
farm in that southern continent.
she moved on so quickly, and is deft
when I make fun of her,
by sticking metaphors in emails,
right where she knows to look for my nudges of questions,
without question marks, so I can ask advice on my work,
because she knows that I can’t go in her apartment anymore.
I liked her things too much.
and she took pictures,
of her newly re-invented self, down in LA, with my favorite faces on,
on her new queen sized bed, in her flat, in the hills.
and a video of her after she had been crying,
Glancing, as she does, to the left, with eyes buggy to tell me,
you left me, now go, just go… go.
Edit 1:
We were to the left of the rooftop doorway,
backs to the ledge, and she began to scream at me,
she pushed me to topple her over the wall,
and onto the mattresses below, that were stacked two high,
below the four story building's height.
Like a lady bug, she floated down to lie on her back,
as they do in grasses, when they look like they’ve passed away.
she was very upset with me,
with her sloppily arranged gibson girl hair.
She landed, on her floral pattern softness,
stood and shouted, "Where is my castle?!"
stomped up her own stone steps, and to her door,
she hated her room, and I laughed on the roof,
as she shouted at her newly thieved, but still placed paintings of hers,
she didn’t like her things owning her, and she made little quarter turns,
and peered through her apartment,
and we fought over a morning coffee,
of which I couldn't finish,
though it was Nicaraguan and
had hailed from an acquaintance's farm in
that southern continent.
she moved on so quickly, and is deft
when I make fun of her,
by sticking metaphors in emails,
right where she knows to look for my nudges of questions,
without question marks, so I can ask advice on my work,
because she knows that I can’t go in her apartment anymore.
I liked her things too much.
and she took pictures,
of her newly re-invented self, down in LA, with my favorite faces on,
on her new queen sized bed, in her flat, in the hills.
and a video of her after she had been crying,
Glancing, as she does, to the left, with eyes buggy to tell me,
you left me, now go, just go… go.
v.1
I was sitting with her, towards the left of the rooftop doorway,
backs to the ledge, and she began to scream at me,
she pushed me to topple her over the wall,
and onto the mattresses below, that were stacked two high,
below the four story building's height.
Like a lady bug, she floated down to lie on her back,
as they do in grasses, when they look like they’ve passed away.
she was very upset with me,
with her sloppily arranged gibson girl hair.
She landed, like a pebble, on her floral pattern softness,
stood and shouted, "Where is my castle?!"
stomped up her own stone steps, and to her door,
she hated her room, and I laughed on the roof,
she shouted at her newly thieved, but still placed paintings of hers,
she didn’t like her things owning her, and she made little quarter turns,
and peered through her apartment,
She made fun of me inside, for pushing a girl as pretty as her,
And we fought over a mostly silent coffee and reading,
And at the art show, where she studied,
And at the pizza place, with her flat billed hat on,
And, as she’s making quite clear,
when I make fun of her,
by sticking metaphors in emails,
right where she’s knows to look for my nudges of questions,
without question marks, so I can ask advice on my work,
because she knows that I can’t go in her apartment anymore.
I liked her things too much.
and she took pictures,
of her newly re-invented self, down in LA, with my favorite faces on,
on her new queen sized bed, in her flat, in the hills.
and a video of her after she had been crying,
Glancing, as she does, to the left, with eyes buggy to tell me,
you left me, now go, just go… go.
We were sitting backs to the ledge
on the rooftop, and she began to scream at me,
she pushed me to topple her over the wall,
and onto the mattresses, that were stacked two high,
below the four story building's height.
Like a lady bug, she floated down to lie on her back,
as they do in grasses, when they look like they’ve passed away.
she was very upset with me,
with her sloppily arranged gibson girl hair.
She landed, on her floral pattern softness
stood and shouted, "Where is my castle?!"
stomped up her own stone steps, and to her own door,
she hated her room, and I laughed on the roof,
as she shouted at her now strange paintings of hers,
and she made little quarter turns, and peered through her apartment,
and we fought over morning coffee,
of which I couldn't finish,
though it was Nicaraguan,
and had hailed from an acquaintance's
farm in that southern continent.
she moved on so quickly, and is deft
when I make fun of her,
by sticking metaphors in emails,
right where she knows to look for my nudges of questions,
without question marks, so I can ask advice on my work,
because she knows that I can’t go in her apartment anymore.
I liked her things too much.
and she took pictures,
of her newly re-invented self, down in LA, with my favorite faces on,
on her new queen sized bed, in her flat, in the hills.
and a video of her after she had been crying,
Glancing, as she does, to the left, with eyes buggy to tell me,
you left me, now go, just go… go.
Edit 1:
We were to the left of the rooftop doorway,
backs to the ledge, and she began to scream at me,
she pushed me to topple her over the wall,
and onto the mattresses below, that were stacked two high,
below the four story building's height.
Like a lady bug, she floated down to lie on her back,
as they do in grasses, when they look like they’ve passed away.
she was very upset with me,
with her sloppily arranged gibson girl hair.
She landed, on her floral pattern softness,
stood and shouted, "Where is my castle?!"
stomped up her own stone steps, and to her door,
she hated her room, and I laughed on the roof,
as she shouted at her newly thieved, but still placed paintings of hers,
she didn’t like her things owning her, and she made little quarter turns,
and peered through her apartment,
and we fought over a morning coffee,
of which I couldn't finish,
though it was Nicaraguan and
had hailed from an acquaintance's farm in
that southern continent.
she moved on so quickly, and is deft
when I make fun of her,
by sticking metaphors in emails,
right where she knows to look for my nudges of questions,
without question marks, so I can ask advice on my work,
because she knows that I can’t go in her apartment anymore.
I liked her things too much.
and she took pictures,
of her newly re-invented self, down in LA, with my favorite faces on,
on her new queen sized bed, in her flat, in the hills.
and a video of her after she had been crying,
Glancing, as she does, to the left, with eyes buggy to tell me,
you left me, now go, just go… go.
v.1
I was sitting with her, towards the left of the rooftop doorway,
backs to the ledge, and she began to scream at me,
she pushed me to topple her over the wall,
and onto the mattresses below, that were stacked two high,
below the four story building's height.
Like a lady bug, she floated down to lie on her back,
as they do in grasses, when they look like they’ve passed away.
she was very upset with me,
with her sloppily arranged gibson girl hair.
She landed, like a pebble, on her floral pattern softness,
stood and shouted, "Where is my castle?!"
stomped up her own stone steps, and to her door,
she hated her room, and I laughed on the roof,
she shouted at her newly thieved, but still placed paintings of hers,
she didn’t like her things owning her, and she made little quarter turns,
and peered through her apartment,
She made fun of me inside, for pushing a girl as pretty as her,
And we fought over a mostly silent coffee and reading,
And at the art show, where she studied,
And at the pizza place, with her flat billed hat on,
And, as she’s making quite clear,
when I make fun of her,
by sticking metaphors in emails,
right where she’s knows to look for my nudges of questions,
without question marks, so I can ask advice on my work,
because she knows that I can’t go in her apartment anymore.
I liked her things too much.
and she took pictures,
of her newly re-invented self, down in LA, with my favorite faces on,
on her new queen sized bed, in her flat, in the hills.
and a video of her after she had been crying,
Glancing, as she does, to the left, with eyes buggy to tell me,
you left me, now go, just go… go.
