Dear January,

Jones is a pretty lady, easy to like
Face, it's always going to be something or
the other thing, is that I want you to want
too much to ever say it again. I've stopped,
trying hard is the hardest thing unless it comes
easy, to think my way is the right,
wrong! Turning, like in a bed of twist & sheets,
of the cold boulder ice morning, alone, off two,
that circle of a life that is everyone else moving,
not, me, I decided, I guess, I chose,
right? Side of this is housewife grief & thrill inbed
dead in my dreams of them-turned-me, and I'm
alive in the moments of planned parties, Bre & Susan,
Lazies, wish I was on the same circle, moving chassis,
an offering of this and this and kisses to celebrate new
year lost me already? 2013, you haunted
house of a spouse of all the things I cannot decide
dead, in the thought of anything headed anywhere, except
for longlive love, and the women who know hard
it is to be easy.