Red Letter Year - February 6th, 2007

Another little poem

It's Not You's, It's Me's


It's what you find
it's what you don't find
just never bother to give yourself the time
you're as lost as you want to be
a map made of "it's not you's, it's me's"
your eyes are as big as dinner plates
seeing everything but your current state
and you sigh with each breath
as if one little girl could possibly
delay death
sudden bus stops draw jagged lines on the page
pulp flattened and dried
never to be the same