Cut Me to the Core

Your ill-formed judgements
They truly
cut me
straight to the core,
every word flies like
spittle from you open mouth

Among the many things
that I am,
the titles I carry,
I certainly do not
fit the slanted description
which you sling
most carelessly
about my neck,

a noose
I will escape from
every single
time

Volcanoes in Winter

  After the winter of '89 you decided you couldn't stand the seasons any longer. Each snowfall had simply weighed you down more and more, until you felt you could not move at all. By the summer you were gone. You packed your bags and shipped off for the tropical beaches of Hawaii. Excited, you exclaimed, "I'll never have to endure another wretched day of snow! This will be wonderful!"

    Despondently I replied, "Sure there won't be snow, but what about all the volcanoes?"

"Volcanoes are only a little extra heat, and a little heat could melt the weight off my heart"

  Now every six months or so I get a postcard with a beautiful sunset or a crashing wave or erupting volcano. You write about how beautiful it all is, about how happy you are, how I should move out there too...but I think we both know I would miss the seasons way too much.

Architecture in Helsinki
Escapee