Tuesday, March 4, 2014

dated poems - 2

he fingers his bowtie
sees his name up in lights
dips his hands into gray water
pulls up a dish
caked with chocolate
sighs, mouth corner curling
--that's where I get it from

the wood is soft
the bar too high
pushing my elbows up
to an immature level
--you're full of shit
put your stupid arm
here, around my waist
brilliant, Sears catalog photo
isn't it just perfect?
well, on second though'
it could be just
the stool too low
--can I still drink
with my drinking hand?

let me just dump this moment on its head
listen to it crack --wow, so beautiful
these dozen sparkly marbles I send off
rolling down a leafy gutter
I spit landmines every time I talk
my mistake, they felt like pillows to me

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