89

Everything finishes too early

I picked the wrong boots for today

Such a sour mood

God, I wish I stayed in.

I don’t mind the rain,

just the strollers and leashes

and children with faces painted

and past lovers sending me letters. 

I’m boarding up my mailbox.

Leave it out, postman.

I’m around.

And I’m a cliche at midnight

with my head on your chest.