French vanilla Converse,
taupe-boxed flannel (too big),
and an American Spirit burning,
real, real slow. What a hipster ****
what a culture-eating parasite.
He says, 'Read Proust with me.'
He says something about how
his dad is dead but not in
a literal sense; metaphorically.
I was never interested in that part
in the avant-garde spoken poetry Friday nights.
I bust into the bathroom
and ***** grasping
Bed Bath and Beyond clearance items.
The walls are the same shade
of green as my skin.
A hand pets my thigh and I'm told
it'll all be okay.
How those knuckles knew,
I'll never know.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 7:50 PM UTC
French vanilla Converse,
taupe-boxed flannel (too big),
and an American Spirit burning,
real, real slow. What a hipster ****
what a culture-eating parasite.
He says, 'Read Proust with me.'
He says something about how
his dad is dead but not in
a literal sense; metaphorically.
I was never interested in that part
in the avant-garde spoken poetry Friday nights.
I bust into the bathroom
and ***** grasping
Bed Bath and Beyond clearance items.
The walls are the same shade
of green as my skin.
A hand pets my thigh and I'm told
it'll all be okay.
How those knuckles knew,
I'll never know.
Request permission to use this poem