i need to know where willow branches

end and putriid bayou water begins

and i need to know the half-life of a

promise made with the intention

only of acquiring more sex.

i need to know if i have walked the

circle sufficiently and snuffed your

poppit before its time or collected

enough oakleaves to ensure an

eternal seperation.

how simple—how irrationally simple

and yet how complex should the

truth be known.

and ive got this eucalyptis scent

in my left breast pocket that i know

youd love to get your hands on and

my opinions were confirmed as a fact

by your ex-best-friend.

i cant even speak of her without laughing

or idling by as you prove to me once again

how pathetically dissimilar we truly

are and how afraid we are to admit

that we were wrong.