Things Left Out Of Fortune Cookies

I've got this crawling in my chest

like love with too much garlic and blue eyes

and a buzz in my ear taunting:

better luck next time, kid

but that's just the shit I cry about

after a sad movie and too much wine

and pity when the chocolate runs out

it's love kid, no use feeding it

unless you really want it to come back

sometimes the words run dry

and love's just a short poem on a stranger's face

in the bar sipping wine

with a glint in his eye

or was it mine?