"i want to buy a pack of cigarettes.
i want to kiss you on the mouth.
i want to slam my head against a wall."

and with that i begin a not haiku,
clacking computer keys at the speed of light,
miles ahead of my now pitiful longhand.
oh how i was quick with a bic ballpoint once upon a time.

and i was stupid to think i could sleep here without you

listening to love songs on the drive home
turn signal, right, stop light, left, keep going,
a tinny plea through my phone speaker
(i don't know how to hook it up to my radio)

i don't think i miss you.  i think i miss the idea of you.
but i'm not sure if i want that back either.