Julia

Julia calls late and
Tells me that
I’m her north star.
She grew up in a small town
Outside of Boston.

She’s a hairdresser.

The best this side of the train tracks and
There’s at least ten.

Julia has a wooden leg
A perfect nose and
Straight teeth. But she’s
Awful sad
Sadder than me and
I’m sad enough.

Her father’s a cheap
Mean
Little
Prick.
The first time I met Julia’s mom
She got mad 'cause I wouldn’t kiss her.

The old goat.

I shook her hand.
That was bad enough.
I’m not your north star
I say.
Yes you are.
I’m thankful for that
One of us says.

At two AM
You sometimes
Need someone
To tell you passionate lies
With a forked tongue.

Julia is one of the best storytellers
In the world and
I always listen

And I always will
Until she gets tired of the telling.