i met karl denke once
had *** with him too

i met him on myspace,
he was the jealous type
and i loved it,
totally made me feel pretty

i met him in person
his mom called and asked him
who was over and if it was anyone important
he said no

i overheard the whole thing,
but karl made sure that i heard it
because he told me his mom had asked him if
i was his new girlfriend
and that he had said no.
then karl told me that he didn't owe me anything.

he also told me i was too tall,
he was used to shorter woman
"a lot shorter", he said

then another girl called,
he looked at the caller id
and said, "uh oh, i can't take this call now,
i'll call her back later"

karl didn't show me his city,
he kept me in his tiny apartment
it was a bachelor's he said
his refrigerator was very *****

when i got home
karl dumped me
because i asked him if he missed me

after i asked him that
he said:

"that's it, we're through"

he dumped me online
as i was listening to an mp3 file
he had just sent me via yahoo instant messenger

the song was "American Woman"
by the Guess Who,
a canadian rock band, formed in winnipeg in 1965

karl had planned the whole thing,
probably around the time he saw
my body wasn't built for *******

about a year after karl dumped
my american kardashian sized ***,
we spoke on the phone about all his new girlfriends.
karl told me my writing was too angry.

karl is doing really good these days,
he posts book reviews on goodreads.com
about books that i think are popular fiction
but am not sure, since i have never heard of them
and almost never read popular fiction.
karl doesn't care if you like his reviews or not.

his mom posted a picture of him and his latest girlfriend,
who will maybe soon be his wife if she isn't already.
she is a lot shorter, and probably isn't american
so she is good enough for him.

can't wait until karl hangs himself.
i hope his mom posts a picture of that
on her facebook page.

Karl Gustav Van der Meyer
era un gran jardinero.

Allá, en su alegre Holanda de cofias y molinos,
de canales y zuecos,
Karl Gustav cultivaba tulipanes extraños
en la penumbra de su invernadero.

Karl Gustav Van der Mayer soñaba con la gloria
de un tulipán fastuosamente *****,
íntegramente *****, como las noches árticas,
como un luto total en terciopelo.

Y era así, día a día y año tras año.
Y su sueño era un sueño.

Pero él, imperturbable, regaba sus macetas,
meditando en abonos y en injertos.
(A veces, distraído, se guardaba los bulbos
en los bolsillos del chaleco...)

Karl Gustav Van der Mayer, indiferentemente,
vio blanquear sus cabellos.
Pasó el amor un día y él se encogió de hombros,
para seguir soñando con tulipanes negros...
Pero, una noche, alguien saltó la tapia.
Alguien, con un puñal.
Y el jardinero
cayó de bruces sobre sus macetas,
muerto.

Y alguien cavó en la tierra,
y echó el cadáver y tapó aquel hueco.

Karl Gustav Van der Mayer se quedó para siempre
en la penumbra de su invernadero.
Ah, pero un día, un día
se vio brotar del suelo
un tulipán de luto,
fastuosamente, íntegramente *****.

Karl Gustav Van der Mayer no pudo ver su gloria,
pues la abonó su propio cuerpo.

Karl Gustav Van der Mayer
no supo que su muerte le dio vida a su sueño...

(Karl Gustav Van der Mayer siempre llevaba bulbos
en los bolsillos del chaleco...)
Por los viejos canales siguen pasando barcas,
y aún giran, como entonces, los molinos de viento.

Las muchachas sin novio regresan del domingo
entre un blancor de cofias y un trepidar de zuecos.

Ah, y, sin embargo,
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer era un gran jardinero!