green chocolate mints

green chocolate mints soothe the raked scars behind my heels
from running and skidding in thin shoes.
i pick at one more thread snapping loose of the newest hole
creeping up the thigh in my last pair of unpatched blujeans.
i switch the playlist to an echoey Moby
from swiveling absently to every Mariah Carey remix.
the shadows in the mirror catch and sillohette my fuzzy-cut hair.
i couldnt cut the nochalance off, even by six inches.
Moby keeps overusing overused images.
but yes, i feel it too, Moby-u catch it all in the echo.
i start to wonder about how my chocolate lotion must melt
and bait the mosquitos to my lazy rivers-
puffing their ribs till their frantic pointy wings breakdown in xhaustion.
my shabby cage with dust stacked neatly under the books
under flourescents my roomate has tacked over with cheap red papers
trying to warm it up because our windo leaks the hard liquor nite
into our milke thin lungs while the awol sheets strangle ankles and legs
and we, "stinking with the virginity of 15 virgins",
shower and brush our teeth morning by morning right before sifting yesterdays socks and tee shirts
to cover todays indiscrepancy.
back to now, i try not to wish too hard for the day me and my boyfrind
dont hav to fite out evry swollen nerve but can just
take it to the kitchen to fall on one another in violent kissing fits.
still, i allow a grin at how naturally that hyper-awkward image
pleaded its own blamelessness.
stretching backwards over my chair i experienced the creamy surge
of my chocolate soaked pulse.
i tried playing my roomate's guitar last nite
its been a long time and i found myself nodding to an unconscious
lullaby threaded by my carelessly wrought fingers
three chords agin and again.
i learned the captivation of simplicity from Moby.
but that was thirty minutes ago,
Postal Service chalks out bold pastels under the red construction paper.
i get excited leaking onto this fourth page
anxiously rubbing down that fresh scraped scar behind my ankle
and readjusting my tennis shoe so im no longer really wearing it.
i jot a few notes on my front teeth and lips with the back of the marker,
inquire of my mirror muse again,
geez, she looks so confident of my progress
like she always knows the other side of that first line
the fridge sighs open for another handful of those tickelish chocolate mints
i slip one out of its crispy wrapper and onto the back of my tongue to sink,
slip my shoe back over my heel and date it.
3-26-005