Thursday, August 14, 2008


I hated it when my mama would pan-fry hamburgers
the smell would crawl up the stairs and settle into
every fiber of my carpet and clothing.

You have woven yourself into my life
every photo and ticket stub
you have crawled up my legs and settled into my mind.
You sneer out from every poster on my walls
every blanket on my bed
every intersection
every movie theater
and restaurant

and i want to hate you
like the greasy smell of
dead frying meat.

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