Pressed Against You
I’ve got a new zit on
my nose from where I
rubbed it against yours
and chapped lips that burn
at slightest breaths of cold
air; stinging dry skin
while I wait for return.
It’s a slow ride on the bus
between us, nor the train will
bring it any closer. I’ll wait
until winter’s gone before I
choose to wait no more.
At least then chapped lips will
heal. Acne’s had time to hide
and dry skin will find comfort
in nothing; but by then I’ll be
too hot to care.
Online Relationships
If I post about something you like
or like something you’ll post,
if my pictures catch your eye maybe
I can tell when you choose not to lie
because you know I’ll read between
the lines. I’ll scope through knotted pixels
and pry through planted events, you’ve
chosen to attend. Because you know
I’ll be watching, because I hope you’ll
know I’ll be waiting, because if I were you
I’d do the same because I am you if you play
the same game and I’ve already posted
more than I do day to days and you’re
reading and watching and scoping and
prying and playing our little game without
once even saying my name.
Planning for the Future
I still excuse myself when no one cares.
I bless myself when there’s no one there.
I wash hands when no one’s looking,
hold doors though no ones coming.
Trained for absence. It helps
to forget how alone I’ll be
when an old man will
burp, sneeze or pee.
It Must Be Perfect
Yes, it’s hot. Can I
wear your gloves?
I can hold it this high.
Does this work for you?
If I move it it’ll crinkle,
cackle and annoy, but
I can fix it. Yes, I can
still hold it this high.
But if I tilt, my arm will
Bend and I’m not sure
I’ll make it so far, or at least
as high as you want it.
Higher?
Okay.
But if I don’t let it cool,
or recharge, or recoup,
It’ll burn itself out and
It’ll burn me too.
Higher?
But if it doesn’t cool…
Do you smell that too?
But if I keep raising it
higher
I can’t keep it steady.
It won’t keep from a new
crinkle, wrinkle or crack.
That’s just smoke. Yes,
Of course I can smell it too.
Higher?
You got it.
Thank you for your gloves.
Were they expensive?
New York Life
Laundry day.
Sunrise. Close the blinds.
Coffee and a bagel.
Cream cheese or bacon or eggs?
Just coffee
Whiskey and beer.
Drugs are for the weekend
Pot for tonight.
Coffee all around.
Missed the sunset.
I’m from Florida too.
IPA and a pickle back.
That how they do it back home?
‘Of course we’re still open’
she says with ugly breath
‘Just how do you think we
make rent?’ Curses from plodded
lashes, off with hands
asking. Do you really
want to swallow? I know
exactly how you make rent.
Close the blinds. Sunrise in
two minutes. Sorry, I don’t
carry cash. You smell like
vomit when you ask.
Pot every day.
Coffee and a bagel.
I like you, you don’t like you, but
he likes you too. ‘Just say
you’re too old’ whispered the old,
‘Tell me you’ll come home,’ cried
wrist without watch. ‘Alone when
home’ was the only response.
Sanitizer Saves
minutes if you use them to spray. I
said close the blinds! They’re watching…
‘We’re all on display’
-written on the walls
of the machine I saw when it was
laundry day again.
Coffee all day.
No one ever guesses his name
Walter Matthou once
told me if you were a bad
boy you’d find solace
in an enemy’s cold hand.
I found out it was a all a joke
and I called him out on it
the next day. So far I’m lost
in his hairless egg and I’m
using his name to pass a joint.
You’ll be writing a song
while I’ll be digging holes
and filling in cavities
with happiness in zombies
because it’ll take a dead man’s
dead pants and a dead man’s
wrinkled hat with soiled moustache
(that I personally covered in dirt)
to reason out the ways in which
I’d like to be buried beside you.
Now you can roll the credits
They don’t tell you what
it’s like in hell. They write stories
and film movies and publish things
that get you excited to see the worst
of it, but they won’t ruin the surprise
until the end. When you’ve finished
her obscenely vile speech, and pulled
puss feathers from his tiny thimble cap, ran
their father’s car off the road and
flipped a heart on four clubs
in a row of alligator skinned net stockings, you’ll
be happy with the unclenched fist, the long
goodbye kiss and the sinking failing test taking
ditch of ruined Velcro sneakers because you know
it’s the end.
They don’t tell you what it’s like in hell
because they’re still waiting for it to
Special Days are so Special
I have a calendar on my wall. There’s
a digital one in my computer, a paper
one on my desk, a connected planner in my
phone set to remind, plenty of
people capable enough to tell me and
yet when the day comes I still find myself
not giving a shit enough to call.
That’s motive enough, isn’t it?
Yesterday was the day I thought
I might die. Today is the moment
I know I’m still alive. Tomorrow
I’ll be somewhere, somewhere I
don’t care. Somewhere away from
anywhere that’s right here. Somewhere.
I’m forever reaching for that somewhere
where I won’t care. Only there will it be
the day when yesterday I never thought
I would die. Still alive to reach until I die.
I thought I might live enough to see it.
