This ghost was thinking:
do I exist in my own world
or do I only exist
in the human world?
if humans do not see me
do I exist,
or do I exist only
as they experience me?

And it thought so hard
it went up in a cloud of smoke -
****! - just like that
and ceased to be, from that moment

*Poor ghost,  it never found out the answer
And a human died and became a ghost
to take its place
and so it goes

Look, we prosecutors in Law Town
we are so well-practiced
that if we set our minds to it
we can even put on trial a turkey sandwich

In fact
just last week we managed
to get a banana convicted of ******;
sure, the conviction was overturned later on appeal -
but hey, the point is, we can skin anybody

Your eyes
are dark and
dull...

I could've
sworn they
were bright blue
when we
first
met.

Magic exists all around us.

2. When you laugh your nose crinkles up so perfectly that your freckles dance like little dandelions in the wind. Know that you are special.

3. One day you will find yourself. For now you are allowed to be lost, you are allowed to be confused and you are allowed to be scared. We all are.

4. You have experienced pain and you are still here. I am so proud of you. Do not disregard yourself you beautiful warrior.

5. You have stardust in your veins, you are a living, breathing, walking extraction of the universe. There are galaxies inside your head, moons in your eyes and the ocean in your heart.

6. You are enough.

The waitress sends signals in neon code,
through Christmas illuminations stretching across
the car-park, and straight into my ***** orange.

She laughs through awkward platitudes,
and all the beards that comment on her skirt.
She's working to make a living,
somewhere down the line.

I watch as she scribbles poetry on old receipts,
eyes glossing over the ketchup stains,
and into the passing of the moment.

I hope that she is writing of escape;
of better times and better sleep.
She will smash the glass ceiling,
and save us from the greenhouse effect.

Baritone singers lure her into art,
into the promise of soft-hearted men
with a resilient chest.

The waitress waits for a signal
to restart her life. There will be flares
on the horizon, there will be new lovers
leaning on their cars in the sun.

She will finally get to sit.
She will thank the waiter for her drink.

I dread 2nd and King to this day.

I was born into a poor family:
dad the drunkard,
mom the **** addict,
brother abusive,
and sister wrist slitter,
in '84.

Mealtime portions measly.
The house's fragmented windows,
chipping paint
and carpet, ash stained beyond cleaning,
forced me to attempt an escape
several times.
Its a wonder we had a house at all!
I was the only one who worked.

From 10:00 until 7:00
in the dead of winter I used to stand
in clothes so thin
I was better off not even wearing them.
In '97 I was too young to work
legally.
But I wasn't too young for the men-
and I admit, some attractive-
who would pull up to
2nd and King.
I just crawled in the backseat,
assumed the position,
and took my beating
for not being born to the right family,
class,
city,
house...
...... corner...
..................men...
...........................­..­....

I can't look at that sign
marking the corner
without thinking of
crotch after crotch
until it was etched in my brain
that the male genitalia
was the epiphany of evil.
I have to turn my head.

I dread 2nd and King to this day.