You don't know
what's going for you.
This is good.
Give it a chance.
Get your hands out of your pants
There is no need
to feel a little more
at home
Get a **** hatchet for
Pete's sake
open that melon of a face
Watered-down?
Add sugar
"Home isn't what's up"
Even ask the rice cooker
It broke eighteen years ago
so now it just burns everything
the way the mom
burns the dad's bacon
And doesn't it just make your head spin
how meat passes through
without making you
any stronger
than the day before when
the neighbors
got everyone drunk on their
very own cyanide?
But give it a chance
Hell,
any new place is an adventure.
Please.
You don't know
what will happen you're not
a freaking oracle, a job left
for debate
in the same category as
freaking poppies
and whether or not they
should even be flowers.
Smell them.
Fraud.
For Megan, my cousin who graduated last night, and her ex-boyfriend (a marine, I think). I wrote this when I thought they were still getting married and was thinking, "What the heck, go ahead! Who cares what they say!" Also, a rant about the suburbs--I'm so glad and proud that she has made it out of them alive.