My friend Jessie recently moved to Mongolia. Before she left, I wrote her these poems:
You In front of me In front of eucalyptus leaves In front of well lit stuccoo. I Look into your eyes Reach for your fries Just to feel your hand push mine away. We Tell so many lies Under San Diego skies Just to make small talk. It Shouldn't be this hard To make our brains get along When our bodies want to. But you Make me so confused I know just what not to do When you're in front of me.
The 344th bit was on, and I remember it. The 344th bit was on, which I guess changed the hue a bit. It seems so disproportionate To remember just a single bit And while I understand if you care not a bit For me it provides a kind of respite And hope that after my flesh does quit The universe will remember me, for a bit.