A Welcome Change of Plans

I'm against resolutions
and the promise of new years and
over-starting something you thought you had left underneath your best friends pillow when you were six years old and not allowed to watch the ball drop.

I'll think of you as the champagne tickles my throat
and the ball gives the illusion of exploding.

I make confetti out of colored paper
and remember the paper planes that never flew too far.

This music is terrible,
I think.
One speaker too many
and the stranger next to me can't even remember the words.

I miss the days we slept through midnight
and the rocking
at 12:01.
The tap tap tap
of a brand new year on your shoulder.

A kiss
and no resolutions.

Let us rejoice in gravity

when all it takes is a phone call you never wanted to make
and you find yourself washing a blood-soaked pan
instead of eating eggs with your bacon.
Remember,
at least we're not floating in space.

To The Future

We did what we wanted to
on days when the rain covered your windshield
and it wasn't safe to drive.

you were afraid anyway;
you'd rather sleep than get wet
but I wouldn't let you.

We did what we wanted to.
It was our only chance
not to get caught
and to never feel guilty-

I always did
but never told you.

We did it anyway,
what we wanted to-
those days when we couldn't see where we were going
and weren't afraid
to crash.

Don't Water Your Lawn

"What a waste"
limply holding the hose in his hands
he sighed
as Martha in her red dress yelled
"hurry up"

The sun was already high
and in a minute it would begin to burn.

"hurry up"
she watched the water drip

drip and spread
waiting for the revival of a green lawn.

Limply holding the hose in his hands
he raced with the sun-
"Martha," he said, "it's the god-damned desert-"
he felt his hands dry and crackle,

"there was never supposed to be any grass."