- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Stubborn and Southern
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I said I know I'm going to be alone. They looked at me for a moment and both ask in unison what happened. I can't talk about it with regular folk. Cry in the cab. Think all day about what went wrong. Maybe I'm just stubborn and Southern. I still pray for him. Rituals and offerings and stoned silence. Thinking of the other one still makes me seethe and cringe. Wakes me up at night but now, at least, I don't have to do what I don't want to. But can't get the answers I need to step into a direction that proves it wasn't my fault. The flashbacks are good and bad. I want to be touched by someone who knew me then and wants to know the slivers of me now. I'd like my money back.
