distress mistress

Journal # ten four

The theatre was replaced by a store, on the street dead-ended at an r.v. park and a crown jewel, on calendar day ten and four. the grasses there were brown as the ground of an aftermath island by a category storm, planks of wood in a dance as they logged the water and dove by drift and distances great, colored settling on ocean floors for schools of fish. we painted on better days that shook a palm tree head of gloom. and so you stood a-looking mournfully out to the deserted street by the window of my room. the dust was swept up and circulated off of the street in the midsummer heat, damselflies at the mercy of cats and lizard wind. you turned to me with a look asked for help. i could not but inexplicably mirror your distress, and in a moment was i your mistress.

missing you

Early saturday morning. USA. Someone took a bite out of the supermoon. The neighborhood sounds like noon.

A girl is out on the front lawn, yelling about her parents. She is distressed. Saying she will call the cops. Someone trying to hush her.

Someone stole something from her. She won’t say what it is. Plenty of dogs barking all around. The neighborhood sounds of noon.

I guess you wanna see me. Talk to me. You let me know in a text. I really wanna see you too. Someone took a bite out of my heart. I might have to call the cops.

I miss you. It’s so hard to keep a distance. I don’t wanna feel upset. Lonely when i am with you.

I listen to the sounds around me. To drown the ones inside me.

Maybe i will see you some day.
I wish I hope we can.
Maybe soon.
We can meet at high noon.
In the garden.
Behind the café.