junkyard poetry

I never stay too long in one place
in case I get stuck
in the quicksand that is my mind
and in the gutter of my heart

You never stay too long
In case you get trapped
by the hundreds of arms
with nooses for hands
that are attatched to every woman you meet

I never stay too long
the morning after sex
a cup of coffee and I'm gone
you put on the tv in the background, pick up a book
and text-message me about time and place
next week