#store
The cashier calls me "love."
That's it.
That's the whole emotional event.
Now I'm buying unnecessary flowers
like a widow in a European film.
The old man behind me
has been flirting with the same bakery employee
for at least eight years.
Real commitment still exists.
He says:
"You disappear, the city changes."
She rolls her eyes so tenderly
I almost start crying into avocados.
There are couples everywhere buying boring things together:
dish soap,
potatoes,
shared futures.
Meanwhile I'm standing in aisle six
holding olives
like a recently divorced gay pirate.
A child is screaming near frozen peas.
Someone drops oranges.
Outside, rain.
Inside, fluorescent loneliness.
And still
something in me loves humanity terribly.
Its small exhausted rituals.
Its terrible jackets.
Its hopeful little dinners.
Even now I catch myself thinking:
maybe somebody is looking at me too
wondering what my apartment smells like
after midnight.
The cashier had a small scar next to her mouth.
I didn't notice it until she smiled.
Now I will remember her forever.
Not because I loved her.
Because someone with a scar
still called me "love."
May 3
May 3, 2026 at 7:52 AM UTC
Your saving grace is that I bark oaths like I'm scanning barcodes.
You can get my meat by the fountain. I'll assume you want it on discount then?
Fulfillment comes when both your lips are properly clear.
When you inevitably rip and tear. Don't forget to tip the cashier.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 11:46 AM UTC
nobody was in here
nobody but an old man
maybe the worker
most times outside smoking a cigar
but today
this girl
blue long wavy hair
downtown aesthetic almost
headphones over her ears
you reach for the record
but there her painted black nails are
reaching at the same time
"were you- were you gonna get that?"
she sounds almost british
you were gonna tell her you've been looking for it
for months
and finally waited for it to come in today
"oh-oh no! you can...you can have it"
she takes the record and smiles at you
you watch her legs move slowly around
browsing the store
her blue ocean eyes waving over you
oh God she was beautiful
as you leave the store
she runs up to you
"hey- I got this for you"
in her hands is a record and a note
you look up from your hands and shes gone
all you see is her blue hair
and a note that reads
find me where the waves meet the sea-
love iris
Feb 6
Feb 6, 2026 at 7:49 PM UTC
it feels dangerous to admit
the extent that i miss
my days ravaged by the lack
a touch on my back
your breath perfuming my neck
i miss the best of the bests
not the screaming
not the storms we endured
just the hummingbird heartbeat
get the napkins from the drawer
only we can know for sure
only we can hold our hands
only what fate has in store
only what the stars call for
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 3:19 PM UTC
search for you in every record store
find you in every book i read
crave your body in any crowd
miss your burning body heat
every song i hear i wonder if you’d like
struggling to be alone without your grace
replaying our moments engraved
i loved you, i still do
i needed you, i still do
Nov 23, 2025
Nov 23, 2025 at 5:32 PM UTC
10-17-25
nyc
><<><>
recently, had occasion to dine out at The Shed^
which necessitates safe Passage past Dylan's^
Candy, where everything, including the effusively
happy sales personnel, who implore you politely,
"try everything!that's new in the store"
however. this contradicts two main principles,
when losing self control, cost be ****** (nothing
is cheap here), and every candy of your childhood
is offered up by weight, and sufficient sufficiently
small bags, but truly big enough to do plenty damage,
encourage grabbing two handfuls de min-mas, that holiday,
of each of your
childhood taste buds memory buds
going going gone!r haywire
Will not reveal what we went home with, more than four
bags full; other than to say the munching began
when we climbed into a taxi to take us to our
dark webbed homeward~hiding places
Do not ask me how much I spent, this factoid is
currently unknown to me, for the time being,
As I chose not to look when the " receipt"
was proffered, but the devil and his due
May miss an appointment or two, but
All tallies, CC CONSUMED, all calorie counts
must be recorded
to account for the strange variations in your
imMoral behavior not to mention your – disscaling,
"weigh yourself before any consummation of consumption!"
that morn event calendar prophetic, informs
is resident in the
waiting room of the early mourning
to mock you with an upside crooked smiley face,
and if you should own a scale that talks
to you, like/lie, mine does, one detects
the tone of opprobrium, sneeringly delivered
so I too ask?
Where is the poem
my fine grown-up child?
How do I express my self – loathing, the undoable unknowing,
that we very grown-up adults, weary from endless to do lists
and chains of responsibility, completion of a task,
that dawns upon your overloaded compass of healthy living,
when appily obliterated in pen, the no! no! necessitated, and
additional two more; if only we had beads to count
those might be my numbing mumbling be,
surely much more pleasantly
But I do not; and more astounding than the delicious
Taste of giant jellybeans in unusual flavorss, is my
Amazement at the incredible ease, with which I discarded
My adult disguise
today, I contemplate a visit to the playground,
where slides too narrow, for adult rears,
and climbing challenges a-bound,
likely broken bones are now a much more
likely, dreaded consequence
But I must write this poetry, without reservation,
Confessing my guilt to the entire world of nations,
I consulted the United Nations who only asked me
where such treats were readily available, even
after the bedtime hour of most good children and reprobates
who possess a credit card expense account
the ease with which I digressed from my guru's
summary and profoundly wizzy wisdom nuggets,
ill disturbs the remaining ruins of my complacency,
challenging me
to never return and never forget...
this is not the first lapse, and if I decided on Hail Mary's,
or my chest to pound, Vidui^^ style of Yom Kippur,
while reciting the liturgy of the of all the sins not permitted,
inescapably, confrontationally, I would see Gluttony, be listed,
with no white spaces between the lines and no spaces within
to hide,
This poem would still be written…
I summoned up from my file, all my addictions,
Crimes I've committed, most of which I have not been
found Guilty thereof, other than in the mind, which washes
them clean nightly (hence the record-keeping, less we forget)
Is this a poem? Perhap,
I cannot care; it is the
The Amazing Ease Equatorial line, which I crossed over
the sin no more line, veterinary a moments consideration,
that shocks me, and begs me to confront my absence
*When the would be, used to be, adults
are in the candy store*
They say, tying a little red string about your index finger
can often improve helpful in restraining this youthful
vigor of overlooking and forgetting; sadly I have no red thread
and if such exists in this abode, I do not wish to know
So this is my confessional, having requested all the leftovers
Be distributed to our young grand niece and nephew,
Please spell spare me that guilty accusation,
For I have already added it to the list with serious
nat-known-no!tationals
I-am> , I-was>
the adult
in the room,
the human child...ageless and faceless
in the Candy Store
and the venality of my grievous erroring,
not~now appears on my notifications and reminders,
at random times.
in case the child cries out begging
for the grown up version of forgiveness,
absolution
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 11:19 AM UTC
Its strange. My thoughts, my emotions, my feelings. They are a construct, I don’t even know,
The music I love listening to, into the books I enjoy sinking into, the poems i adore to fill with words and sentences are so versatile that they are all contradictory in themselves,
They are neither special, unique or profound. They are simply a manifestation of what I feel inside, how I think things, how I perceive my emotions.
They should not be praised or appreciated, otherwise you allow them infinity, you allow them to remain eternal,
Curiosity spreads through me. It makes things accessible, but above all understandable. It puts you in a position to see things from a different perspective,
I believe that when you are severely depressed and have a borderline personality disorder, perspective is the most important tool you have. It allows you to perceive the shape, every angle, every detail, to recognize how it differs from all the other shapes, details, angles,
So what is curiosity for me? It is the curiosity to be curious. You can't be curious if curiosity is unknown to you.
Mar 4, 2025
Mar 4, 2025 at 6:00 AM UTC
I would have really liked
just doing laundry and taxes with you.
We're near the avocados
and I can't help but tease you
"when are you going to make the avocado dish"
it's with a sly smile I ask this.
I can't resist,
seeing your little dance
your face scrunched
and you're flustered -
"we'll get them right now, so I can make it this time"
"No, no."
"We'll get them next time"
but really I don't like avocados
it's just part of the fun.
You drop some blueberries into the cart
"they're good for the heart".
Mar 26, 2023
Mar 26, 2023 at 11:56 PM UTC
disney was a store
who packed me gifts
labelled with
a happy ever after
but they forgot
such spells doesn't work
in reality anymore
it becomes a curse
who force me
to give up
my rights
because
i
chose
to be a
different
princess
than their traditional ones
Dec 31, 2022
Dec 31, 2022 at 2:23 AM UTC
"time for the quarterly internet rabbit-hole of your early life.
are you going to spend the next hour looking for pictures of an old mall?
or by finding out the real reason why the first movie theater burned down eleven years ago?
or perhaps look at how your favorite grocery store has changed?
how about we look at the once empty fields that are now occupied by mattress stores?
then will you end it by crying yourself to sleep?
wondering why you cannot remember any of it all?
why you cannot make sense of being a child?
did you ever become conscious before 2012?
are all these hazy memories just dreams?
did you even exist in any of it?
what are you even searching for?"
anything.
Dec 28, 2021
Dec 28, 2021 at 6:29 PM UTC
Sky is a roof
we can never touch.
Our feet stuck
on the ground
can't get rid off the dust.
Neither can we breath
without drowning
into the air.
Then we can say
every morning we can
scoop up a new sunrise!
Then there is an expiration
date set for each of us.
Gained all that in store
in the world?
But which way
is the way out?
Can anyone find
the exit time
before it comes?
Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 11:01 AM UTC
My mind is like a pawn shop.
Most people wouldn't care about all the odds and ends in there.
But if you do, and you can make a fair exchange, anything in there is yours.
So shop around any time,
You never know what you may find
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 10:53 PM UTC
i never felt the need to say it
but it’s time to bid aideu.
you made me feel things
almost as if you unleashed a zoo
i miss you sometimes
but then i remember what you turned into
you treat me
as if i’m a shoe
you wear me out until you can’t anymore
but you can’t return me to the store
as much as you try,
i’ll never be who i was before.
with this,
i say goodbye and thank you
i hope one day
you stop acting how you do
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 10:47 PM UTC
Twirl and sidestep
Sidestep twirl
A solemn dance
Over the abyss
Among the tins
And the discount bread
Partners weave
From afar
Marking endless time
In measured silence
A six feet waltz
Of the newly ******
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 4:16 PM UTC
Hi
You're beautiful
The sun agrees
Anthropological wonder
Space-Time light rider
Careless to be careful
Just because I'm under
Magenta minds eye
Deep intent
Majestic tight bright
I would lick the floor where you stand
Dilated
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
i wish the child-locks on medicine bottles
worked on people that don't have that childlike innocence
anymore
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 10:38 PM UTC
Walking through the store,
Surrounded by racks of other lived world's,
Given to be shared with someone else,
My hands brushing across jackets and shoes,
Feeling where someone tripped,
Or where a moth found it's way.
My thoughts meander to my own world,
The scuffs decorating my shoes,
The fraying strings of this jacket,
The torn pocket of these jeans,
All part of me here, and wondering,
Just how much you'd see of me in them.
I'm passing the time all the while,
My search idling between,
The articles of lives, and the ones moving around me,
Waiting for the certain one that led me here,
Leaving me to fend alone for just a moment,
A slight grin my only clue to run on.
Wandering back down, my mind was a flutter,
Before me, radiant and glowing,
The magnificence of your presence
Breathing a whole new meaning,
To a prismatic dress,
And a perfect black jacket,
Captured so brilliantly,
In my enamored mind.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 7:16 PM UTC
It smells just like her
It smells just like the woman who taught my mother to raise me
The woman who comforted me when it stormed
The woman who taught me to appreciate my German heritage
I miss her . . .
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 5:58 PM UTC
We all go grocery shopping on Saturday at 4pm, and that’s America for you, but do you have to buy the last demi-loaf of artisan rice flour sourdough and swoop in to get the only carton of organic, local, grass-fed, 2% milk that I like, then have the tenacity to take the final gold foil-wrapped bar of imported Belgian dark chocolate and, for that matter, give me a Christ-save-your-soul stare when I spend a good five minutes debating the respective virtues of KY and Astroglide?
Thank god, at least, America sells liquor with its bread and milk and ****
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
The tick of toothed gear
Gives handfuls of a surprise
Mike & Ike tasters.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
My echoing laughter
Catches the walls
Just below the ceiling
When I see it again
In the reiteration of his own hand
That you were right
And the world was wrong
That it was not meant to be as this
A singing song
But a reproach of the sigh
Of another man
How clever of the Frost to hide
On another set of snowy hands
How clever indeed were you also to find
The original meaning of such a man
With props to you
I laugh again
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
Hi, Mr. Handsome Superstar
walking through the grocery store
You're not a god, you're not Thor
You're only mortal and nothing more
So why would anyone place
you upon a pedestal?
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 12:31 AM UTC