September 2002 / Volume Three / Issue One
Diana Cleveland

I see you
when I stop looking at the lines and stare at your words and it all becomes so clear
So simple
Your capitalizing on your beliefs
Mixing drinks with numbers and games
I am not here for you to…shame
Are you disappointed in me?
Would I care if you were?
My questions are all rhetorical now
I’ve never been one to let someone else do all the work
So here I am
Placing my hands onto the screen, pointing out this letter and that
Knowing exactly what’s being said but I still like to feel it out
Hard cold letters between my fingertips
Its nice to still feel something after all these minutes
Only minutes
Of sleeping midair
You’ve awoken me with your concrete conclusion
Rammed into me like a red blazer on a really really bad fucking day
Stop looking for definitions to something that shouldn’t be defined
You’ll lose your license to be surprised
You never know what might come next
So quit expecting, rejecting
Before you’ve even learned the rules of the game
This isn’t solitaire my dear
Its for all of two
Too much
To hide
so scrutinize the mistakes because that is the only way you’ll ever find me
the gunshot has been fired
its repercussions ringing in my ears
the bullet is still hanging
The only question is
Are you shooting?
Or are you running?
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