Wanderlust

Roaming aimlessly, you don't know what you're looking for, but you know you're going to find it.

Walking backwards, you can't see where you're going, but you can feel it's the right way.

Trailblazing down concrete streets, you don't have time to stop, but you take in everything as it is.

Skimming across a tightrope, you won't look down, but you know what's waiting if you fall.

Venturing, you aren't very brave, but you don't have to have courage to have a good time.

And when you get home
                    you'll be all alone
                             humming the sound of your own footsteps.

Velveteen

If we know velvet
What is velveteen?


Is it different somehow
    if beautiful and luxurious?
    if soft and comforting?
    if new and shiny?


Is it an imitation
    if it looks just like the real thing?

Is it cheap
    if you can't afford better?

Will a photocopied memory last

    if the ink happens to bleed?

What is velveteen

    if there is no word for velvet?

    if there was never any velvet at all?

I am velveteen.

What am I?

Skeptic

Put your two cents in
Kindling for the fire
That creeps along my spine.

Speak your mind
Let the words come out of your mouth
And seal mine shut.

Tell me a secret
Make my heart twist
Trying to make it count.

Erase me from your memory
But watch the ink bleed
You're permanent on my skin.

Rub it in, why don't you
It's a balancing act
You fall, I fall.

What do you think of me?
Who are you to judge?

Not It

Great poker face

A devilish smile

That comes out

Once in a while

                 if you're lucky.
I am.

The whisper of a dove's wing

Floating on an eyelash

A butterfly's wing of hope

Thumping a heartbeat

                           if you happen to hear.

I do.

Laughter makes my heart grow small

With longing

With fear

I can crush it, destroy it

                                if I'm clever.

I'm not.

A perpetual game of tag

Running madly

Drifting sadly

You'll escape

                    if you can run fast enough.

I can't.

Forgetting the string

Of remembrance 'round your finger

You can get lost

In that grin

            if you don't try too hard.

I don't.

Roses are red

What comes next?

Pen to paper, cheek to cheek

Arm to hand to heart

                            if you want.

I want.

Do you?

You Say Goodbye...

...I say hello...

---

Five four nine, one one six two.
She stared at the crumpled piece of paper in her shaky hand, the red ink blurring together on the page and making her mind spin in circles. Somewhere on the platform, somebody sneezed, and there was the soft sound of shuffling as they searched through their pocket for a much-needed tissue.
Five four nine, one one six two.
Clasping the scrap of paper between her fingers, she spun around and stared at the posters on the wall, the one of the city map, the Coca-Cola ad, the informational diagram about STIs. Pulling her wool hat over her ears, she exhaled softly, her breath coming out in a plume of thin smoke, her chest tightening with the very movement.
Five four nine, one one six two.
The overhead loudspeaker boomed something about luggage being left in the east wing, but it wasn't the droning, muffled voice she heard in her head.
Five four nine, one one six two.
"Please!"
"I can't stay. You know I would if I could."
"But I-"
"Look, I'll make this easier on you. We don't have to be friends. We can just talk about the weather every time I come into town."
"I can't-I won't-"
"I'll get out of your way now. Might as well end it off here, right?"
"Please don't-"
"All right, bye then. I'll see you... No, I won't. I'll... Call you? Here, take-"
"You can't do this..."
Five four nine, one one six two.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the five o'clock train has now left the station. I repeat, the five o'clock train has now left the station. Please stand by for further notice about the delay in Belleville..."
Five four nine, one one six two.
She tossed the paper into the wind, and it whipped against the train window as it rushed by. The numbers spun around in her head like flies circling honey, and she closed her eyes, blocking the sight of the darkened platform from her view. She retrieved her phone from her backpack and began to dial.
Five four nine, one one six two.
"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice recording. Please leave a message after the beep!"
Five four nine, one one six two.
She hung up.

---

Well, that was depressing.