10/05/10 - 2

saturday night
in a haze of cocktail couture
i'm with the mod girls.
their backsides out
trying to let us know
they have feeling
they have soul.
at the indie bar party,
and i don't fit
but graze eyes with boys
who brush past
and met the sallow youth
of skinny drug-induced pathology
always looking inward,
inside
the cerebellum
or the heart
crumpled up,
stare,
blue paper,
girl's bathroom,
wrong stall.
empty vodka bottle
on the floor.
i miss you
and the glow of your bedroom
the soft touch of your hand
walking
alone
in the dark
to the tunes of the yiddish band
that thom liked.
you wouldn't believe
the way that the girls
danced
and danced.
i guess i'm just lucky
your girl doesn't read our poetry.
and please
don't worry about me--
it's astonishing enough
that anyone could want to be
wrapped in this body.
without mention of love.
i used to be an all or nothing girl
before my heart got numb.