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CANCER CENTER

Walking through leaves slick
and slow like snails. My shoes strike
the ground in staccato steps
Anger with no source
is like an ulcer that undulates
through my heart leaving traces of imagined wrongs.
The sweet,stale smell of wet wool and rain
in my hair, drops on my glasses that I wish had tinted
windows in order to hide puffy eyes greener than glass.

Someone once said "you look pretty when you cry."
I wanted to slap his face and then lick
away that lasting sting.
I'm dizzy with distemper and my lips
are white from hormonal hell and I don't know
anything anymore except that my teeth are still straight.

do the jerk * do the frug