We watch ourselves 
from the rear view mirror, 
as we drive off in a car 
packed with girls
hell bent on taste.

And we stand there 
watching the van pull out 
of the drive through,
with a map you cannot read 
nor follow.
Watching the secret virginity 
leak like gas from the exhaust,
leaving a trail behind it.
(it will not lead you nor prosper)

Something the men 
could never understand,
never take from us
and something we could never 
get back.


 

I

I am always unstill
The journey is like
a train
It will not stop just for me 
I must have potential 

II

I move as through
moving is not a solution 
but an alternative.
I am still
looking for the difference 
between scar and memory 

III

I watched that train 
slide, almost serenely, off
the tracks 
and crack it’s spine.
Still
being disappointed I wasn’t 
on it