:: love ::

she must have lost my number
when she washed her jeans --
the napkin i had scribbled my name on
wouldn't make it through one
rinse cycle.
and now it seems i'm stuck in spin --
or is it dry? --
i don't know why i'm writing this.

and she must have just forgotten
to invite me to the gala
that i saw when i drove by the other night.
lights were blazing, music playing,
people swaying all in twos and black suits
spinning white-dressed satisfaction to the tune
of claire de lune.
and i just turned my music louder, to a shout,
i'm shouting -- i don't need you.
but i do, i do, i do.

she shouldn't use words like that,
words like death do us part
and sickness and health.
i have both sickness and health but no
life to be parted with.
she must have forgotten that part.

i know i have not.