because he probably moved to Westchester or Nebraska or the other places people
go to die.
i will finish this poem before calling my therapist and telling her that i want to move to
Westchester or Nebraska to be with Mr. Ken Sunshine, my one true love.
i want to paint my body with
return to sender and crumble back into a
zygote, curled and warm and small inside of my mother's
["i could have been a star"].
brave and smart and owns his own consulting business[apparently]
i'll call him up and say
"Ken, how do i make my neighbors stop playing 90's rock and fucking against our shared wall? Ken, how do i fill out a FAFSA form? Ken, i wrote you secret messages in the binding of the Annual Report and you never even
there are 27 inches of snow scheduled for Sunday and i want to
stamp return to sender,
go to work and check to see if i have any more letters from