#lester
Sigourney was a saltwater princess
born from a flash flood;
a stray cat I found
stuck between the boards
of a wooden fence.
Her cries mimicked
the local 6 o'clock siren
with a backdrop
of toe beans fettering
on a park sidewalk.
I mirrored the way
her left paw traced
the cracks of the cement,
(fast paced, sloppily),
then ushered her out
using a combination of
strength and saliva.
"It's okay,
you won't get wet,"
I whispered
as my left hand struggled
getting out a plastic bag.
Carefully,
with precision,
Sigourney was plopped
backwards into
torn up plastic
marked
Have A Nice Day!
Alone we trudged
through flooded baseball fields
and gazebos
to cross the highway.
"Do you want
to go home?
Do you have
a home?"
I took a shortcut through
the Taco Bell drive-thru,
cars honking,
claws breaking through
malleable material.
cotton, skin, etc.
Sigourney said nothing.
"Good,
because I don't know
if I want to."
Tucked into a bag tucked into a jacket,
we headed westward
as far as we could,
before a cop approached
a teen at midnight
technically committing
a catnapping.
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 10:14 PM UTC
love is muscular dystrophy.
i can feel the earth cave in
and the mountains touch tips,
a "drunken mistake"
in the church parking lot
they'll never tell their friends.
i get it.
i never told my friends the truth,
i just told them i loved them.
and for a while i have been
attempting to soundtrack
the world's end, my end,
and the realization that
my gastrointestinal system
will collapse before i'm 20
if i don't lift my head up for once.
yet every good poem i've ever written
has been sober and manic,
pessimism with too much hope,
and every metaphor used
never held any actual weight.
i've welcomed writer's block
with half open arms
as i try to write a final track,
or at least a penultimate one,
if the time doesn't feel right.
if i have to promise once more
that i'd try to take care of myself,
stop crying in empty driveways
over broken promises,
stop holding myself over
the diner's staircase
with bulging anticipation.
it felt good being surrounded,
it feels bad being crushed
and knowing there is so much more
out there in the valley or whatever universe
i decide to live in,
yet i can't get out
of my family's trash compactor.
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC