legends of the hidden temple

we were drinking coffee out of mason jars

and replacing stars with cheap taboos

the track marks on your face are dried elmer's glue

i feel aloof enough to introspect

read and reread womanist texts

there's a hierarchy of needs

my kill count includes way too many centipedes

tell myself i'm not a jerk

tell your mom i'm not a jerk

shy away from jobs

borrow money

anything that works

that isn't work

you read catch-22 on the kindle

i used to play turkey in the straw" on the fiddle