Empty Fortune Cookie -

And disrupt the silence

Of brown tangled hair

And paper plane pilots,

So I wrote you a note

On the back of your eyelids

Of stereotypes that would lead you to violence and sin.

Now you’re tangled up in

My memory matrix

(Of chain smoke, tattoos,

A parking lot silence,

A glossy eyed touch,

Hints of the tragic,

And poems read aloud that you made so emphatic again).

And you know that I won’t just let it go.

There’s rain on your window, but nobody’s home.