Okay, well. I had the *nsync-as-mutants dream last night. It was only a matter of time. I woke up with the exhilarating feeling that comes from thinking "Oh. Oh." and "Nooooo!!!!" at the same time.

I wrote a poem. Not about the dream or anything. Although, god, y'know. I'd never recover. Just, for my poetry class today, we had to write a poem about a common object.

I love y'all. I'll be back tonight.

--Alestar

~*~

PHONE CARD

I was cleaning out this--
I don't know, this brown box
under other brown boxes
in a forgotten corner of my room.

I found, usual exceptions to unusual rules:
newspaper clippings, porn, mixed
tapes, popped bubble wrap, loose change;
I found, sixty minute phone card from you.

It expired months ago
with twenty minutes left on it,
which translates to roughly two dollars
of human conversation.

Roughly, I figure, we could've had that fight
in twenty minutes. Done something
loud. Piece of two dollar pie.
Moves these months in other ways.

But, I don't know, I put the useless
piece of plastic back
in the box and shut the lid.

~*~

:]