Blackbird, spare me some light.

As far as the eye can see.

Dear,

Tavi, you make my glasses look good.

I can't wait to get home.

Made special, just for you, Bill Chenevert.

I moved to France without being sure you'd be there.

No children, no husband, no kitchen table.

She wanted to draw a picture of

tiny ponies and golden phones and glitter storms and dresses too big to fit through doorways and bright walls and big windows and waves rolling and jeans rolling and hills rolling and people laughing and notes hanging in the air and sounds you can touch and laughs of a different color.

Snap.

Life.

At least make me a dress.

A summary.

Perfect boots. All the answers.

The world hangs by a thread.

All the kids are wearing plaid.

An empty promise sighs.

In bed on a Saturday.

A quiet thing.

I hold my silly breath.

Chasing and catching small birds.

As for the rest of us.

And I tell myself.

Love for doomed fools.

If I only.

And paper cuts.

Not us.

"We did laugh", he said.

Through rose colored glasses.

R, S, and T also available.

For sale.

The saddest story.

Playing on repeat.

SOS

What I meant was.

Woe be gone.

Sigh.

For Marie.

And I still miss you.

I feel it slipping through my fingers.

Here I am.

Here we are.

And double negatives.

For Kathleen.

I make a list of regrets.

And pots of gold.

Take two.