I'm Learning How To Taste Everything.

I Am Angry That I Starved My Brain And That I Sat Shivering In My Bed At Night Instead Of Dancing Or Reading Poetry Or Eating Ice Cream Or Kissing A Boy.

So, She Tells Me, The Words Dribbling Out With The Cranberry Muffin Crumbs, Commas Dunked In Her Coffee.

The One Good Thing About Being Kind Of Shy Is That Nobody Bugs You When You Want To Be Left Alone.

I Want To Tell Him That It's Just A Stupid Car, But Bits Of Me Are Scattered All Over Town; The Graveyard, School, Cassie's Room, The Motel, And Standing In From Of The Sink In My Mother's Kitchen. It Takes Too Much Energy To Gather All The Bits Together, So I Just Sit There And Watch Him Implode.

I Look At My Homely Sketch. It Doesn't Need Anything. Even Through The River In My Eyes I Can See That. It Isn't Perfect And That Makes It Just Right.