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Teresa Willis has an inescapable urge to write and perform her own work. She has been seen doing such in many varying venues in New York and Los Angeles, as well as several points in between. Her work has been published in Caffeine, The Moment, Pearl, Blue Satellite, among others. Ms. Willis is part of Vox Femina, Los Angeles' premiere women's choral ensemble and Third Door Down, a really good band. Her critically acclaimed one-woman show, Eenie Meanie will perhaps be coming to a theatre or classroom near you. She lives in Burbank with the Fair Cricket. More info than you need on Teresa can be found at


there's a Hindu monastery next to the 101
in Hollywood California
you could spit on this freeway from 
the front steps of the temple
the monks wear jeans and talk
a block away
a cappuccino vendor sobs for her tattooed lover
a runaway trades a blow-job for food, shelter or drugs
a skunk waddles into the bushes, having repelled the coyote
my vacant apartment's wooden frame yet sways
in the artificial breeze of abandoned dreams
balance will be achieved
here in Burbank
I keep what's left of my glamour
in the back of the refrigerator
in a microwaveable Rubbermaid container
I use it on my rice
sparingly like saffron
it's expensive and fattening
I have to watch my figure these days
balance will be achieved
cellulite seeks its own level
I have seen movie stars do it
in real life I've seen them fuck 
they put each other on one leg at a time
just like we do
they get bored and fantasize
about normal people
Kevin Costner wants a large lycra-bound woman
with pink foam rollers in a trailer park in Florida
Michelle Pfeiffer craves a pot-bellied plumber
under a kitchen sink in South Bend, Indiana
Our girl Jodie puts herself atop the UPS driver 
with the fetching butch haircut
balance will be achieved
lust seeks its own level

here in Burbank
this insomnia is desperate
a malady of half-truths
but I am part of the whole
from here I cannot smell the Hollywood skunks
for all I know 
Florence Henderson is strolling down Cahuenga Boulevard 
with an ostrich boa searching for me
for all I know 
there's a crack dealer working out of my old apartment
for all I know 
the monks are spitting on the freeway
balance will be achieved
illusion seeks its own level
protect me from what I want
protect me from what I want


he put her next to a freeway
every morning
she stares at concrete 
she hears the rush hour 
rush by without her

she pictures his mangled blue compact
between the center divider
and a semi
on the other side
of the concrete wall 
outside her kitchen window

scrapes concrete
scrapes flesh
scrapes the egg
from the plate
with her thumbnail

flames burst over
the wall
outside her kitchen window
she turns off the water
and smiles

© 2003 Teresa Willis






























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