poem of the day 09.17.15

winona soul

winona ryder

could love me i think

watching welcome home roxy carmichael

with kris and angie

winona my last hollywood crush

oh, how she used to make mary so jealous

as if winona would just show up at my home

and whisk me off with her to california

but i think this is a good night

a quiet saturday night at angie’s

tacos tori amos the sea & cake winona soul

i’m not going to think about

how steve told me that i was pussying out

how even calvin got into the act

making whiplashes over the phone

as if i were some kind of kept man

for wanting one night away from the neon drag streets

one morning where the bile didn’t rustle my stomach

i bet winona ryder could love me

like kris and angie holding hands on her couch

like the way they looked last night

toasting martinis and sinatra at the balcony

i bet in los angeles i could learn to love the sun

sit poolside helping winona rehearse

write me a sunset strip blues

but i haven’t written in weeks

just lay in bed sleep listen to liz phair

listen to my old man ask me when i’m getting a job

maybe the next time i’ll tell him

i’m waiting on winona like waiting on godot

to come roaring up our little shit street

in a cherry red convertible singing

i can turn your gray skies blue, ah

before we burn burn burn burn west turning gold.