Emotions and deep /
feelings sometimes lead poets/
to write stupid things.

What do Michelle, Anne, T, Erin, Wendy, Maryanne, Jill, Carole, Yvonne,
etc. etc. etc
have in common?
They are all women who
I was crushin’ on
or tried to woo.
They all said no,
they wanted to go slow,
with no committment,
and so off they went.
I could be a friend,
but that’s where it’d end.
And soon afterwards,
I heard
they were happy,
and their days were spent,
in fantastic, long-term committments.

Look for Beth, Gayla, Deb, Holly, Azura, Diane,
to soon join that happy,
long-term committed clan,
without me.
Evidently,
my passion is introductory
and eye-opening of what can be.

School lunch spaghetti/
for the first time with my mom./
Better than they say!

You know where I am./
And now, you know where I stand./
It’s always your choice.

I’m going to have/
to hijack this bus. I like /
you too much not to.

It’s ridiculous!/
I will need to drive the bus/
to get anywhere.

Strange to look in my/
phone’s recently called numbers/
list and not see yours.

It’s hard to ride the/
bus anywhere when noone/
gives you the schedules.

I watched a man/
run and stand/
at the bus stop,/
thinking he could hop/
on board./
But the driver didn’t open the door,/
and just drove./
What should be done?

It’s so hard to think /
about you being so close/
and not talk to you.