it seems that pretty girls,
like that milk that you
down like frat boys with 151,
have expiration dates

six marks kerosene time, seven
marks the beginning of the rain
you really could have called

prom dresses and fuzzy tvs;
they go together like water and lithium
dangerous and fizzy
like the beer you pounded
when you forgot me, baby

---

to d. cyr
thanks for standing me up, bud