his favorite movie

the glaring yellow of grocery store fluorescent lights --
that's what i've been thinking about today.
it makes all of our foreheads look shiny,
but you always looked beautiful in that light
you pushed and i rode,
the plastic mesh lines established themselves through the delicate skin of my thighs.

i wish he had never kissed me there.

this slick asphalt makes me nostalgic for rollerblades,
i'm watching myself spin circles around the big parking lot across the street.
countless cars are driving right through me,
but they have no idea.
and i can't help but think they would never roll around here anyway.

i accidentally told a boy that we wouldn't have worked out because i'd get bored with him.
i didn't mean to say that, but i think that i meant it.
i'm sorry,       .
you just don't strike me as a matchstick boy --
and i want that fire to burn, baby, burn.

i picked up my phone to talk a lot today
but actually had no one to call.

"they are not really for you,"
remember that, i said, "it's not for you"