"costco" poems
Yes I jumped in those leaves
crunchy, fluffy, autumn leaves
Waded in the decorative fountain
Climbed on the public art
Yes I danced swing in the BART station
Hid in the grocery store among rolls of
toilet paper
Had to *** a ride after the Dicken's faire
Played in the rain
Hugged my mother
Made my dad take me to see Tangled in 3D
Yes I measured the baking soda for those
dinosaur chocolate chip cookies
Loved Steve Irwin will all my childhood admiration
Was afraid of the Deep End
Memorized Shel Silverstein
Remember my sister reading me Harry Potter
Gripping my best friend on Tower of Terror, Indiana Jones, Space Mountain
Sang Christmas Carols in October
And I'm not even sorry
I was a pirate paleontologist pop-star
pokemon master steampunk rocker renaissance girl who
time-traveled, hunting T-rex
adventuring with Christopher Robin, Calvin and Hobbes
Made two corsages for my junior prom, fed ducks,
ate at Mels, posed in the dollar store, watched
the Avengers in our glittering dresses for the second
Laughed so hard I cried about the stupidest things
I doubted, got lost in Costco, found my faith
Had my prayers answered
For the bestest, most faithful friends
I have the "simple human relief of knowing you’ve done wrong, and living through it"
And don't take this the wrong way
It's not like I'm going to jump off a bridge
Well, maybe with a bungee cord?
But if I died right now
**** Gone.
I wouldn't say I envied anybody
Not really
We've had a pretty **** great time
haven't we?
Oh sure I'd protest
Places to go, people to see, things to eat, but...
As long as You forgive me
my faults
Whose to say,
There is anything else I HAVE to do
Before I have lived a GREAT life
I have nothing to prove
besides that I am grateful
for this breath of life
which may pass at any moment
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
She remembers the day the stick turned blue, “wow for **** up the spout”
He remembers her smile when she told him. Smile, really?
Then there was telling her parents, “okay we'll make this work”
Then there was telling his parents, “You threw your scholarship away for this ***** you're a dumb ***
She remembers the morning sickness
He remembers the hangovers
She felt warm inside when he said it was her choice
He felt like dying when she said she was keeping it
She framed the first ultra sound photo
He deleted his Myspace page
She noticed the day she started showing
The same day he noticed the legs on the waitress
She was snickered at behind locker doors
He quit the team
Her mom brought home baby shoes
His mom circled the classifieds
She got peanut butter cravings
He got hand gun cravings
It's a girl
It's a girl
She remembers finally talking again after four months
He remembers being cornered after 3rd period
She wanted to pick names
He wanted to hang up
She remembers their second first date
He remembers how nice she was
This could really work please kiss me goodnight
We'll see how this goes please don't kiss me
The doctors say the shadow on the ultra sound could be nothing
What if the thing on the picture is something
She prays for the health of Amelia
He begs God to do something about this
They have such a bright future ahead
He had such a bright future ahead
She goes to Goodwill for maternity clothes
He rings her up at the cash register with a kiss
She remembers buying baby clothes at the mall
He remembers how cute the onesies were
She sees him smile
Amelia...good name
She's due next week
He packs his cleats to make room for the crib
She packs to move into his house
His dad packs for a motel
She's still craving peanut butter
He's still craving the waitress
She ate peanut butter
He ate the waitress
She's in labour
He's in traffic
Hold my hand
Ouch...Okay breathe honey...ouch
There's no crying
Nice, quiet baby
Amelia's dead
I'm not a father
She cries into her shirt
He leaves the hospital
She cries into the onesies
He returns the crib to Wal Mart
She burns the ultra sound photos
He grabs his cleats
She gets a hair cut
He quits his job
She returns the diapers and shower gifts
His new Myspace says “single”
She shops for a prom dress
The waitress finds out he's seventeen
Her mom hugs her as she falls asleep
His dad pats him on the back after wind sprints
She can't stop starring at him during prom
He wonders if she went to prom
She writes Amelia in bubble letters on a piece of paper she hangs on her wall a reminder of what's important
He buys a Costco pack of condoms and tacks one to the wall a reminder of what's important
Jan 4, 2010
Jan 4, 2010 at 10:17 AM UTC
Healthy bran cereal on discount for 2 dollars!?
I was really happy.
it had the daily fibre
it went well with honey
it just tasted nice
After my victory snack, I gently went to sleep...
I expired in the morning.
Jun 7, 2023
Jun 7, 2023 at 6:27 PM UTC
we stood in our scarlet, costco bought handmaiden costumes
wordlessly taking a stand
because words matter
it is a stoic thing
to make history
kamala harris
wisely having her moment
so far, the height of her career
then we re-enacted various episodes
of House of Cards
all in front of Judiciary Committee
afterwards, we were given some money.
before going home to watch netflix, we had to educate the world
on the language they are and are not allowed to use,
because we need to control the world's vocabulary
especially since so many people are tranny-phobes
and we still think the term "hateful bigot" holds power.
thank god for the 25th amendment,
there is no way in hell that we will lose another election,
but if we do, we can always fall back on 25A.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
I always had trouble with my keyboard.
Some of the letters were too tight and never moved,
you had to slam them in order to get the words you wanted
and even the most sincere love letter
could sound like a strongly worded email to the nearest Costco
because you found that same 3 pound box of popcorn at Walmart for like 50 cents cheaper.
But the other keys were loose and fell out,
I always put them back on
but I always seemed to lose U.
It was like no matter how much I put U back together
U always fell on the floor.
My friends all urged me to forget about it
and get myself a new keyboard,
they said "come on Alyssa,
you know you need something that stays longer than a few weeks"
but I was too scared that the price of finding something new
outweighed my frustration for picking U up
and just putting U back together again.
Sometimes I wish U could be tough,
that way I didn't have to be terrified of breaking U
if I didn't feel gentle that day,
in case I really was writing that strongly worded email to Costco.
Because there are days when I am not soft and warm,
when I feel more like the lawn mower than the soft grass underneath of it.
Some days I feel like ripping out the X on my keyboard
because it has not moved once since I got it
and replacing it with U
just so U could finally stay where I put it
even if it meant I didn't use U anymore.
At least I would always know
U wouldn't move without my permission.
But that would mean that X would be falling out of place,
and God knows that I need to keep my X's where they belong.
But this isn't about the X,
and this wasn't about U,
this was about my inability to change
and my constant fear of imminent loneliness.
You see I'm not so afraid of being alone,
but feeling lonely scares the living hell out of me
so I would rather find someone broken and patch them up,
make sure they need me a lot more than I need them
so I know they won't leave first,
than find someone who has all of their pieces
and is capable of staying intact without my help.
That is the one who knows that they are so much better without me,
that I am just dead weight
and I am more likely to cause their death by drowning them
than helping them swim to shore.
But for Christmas I asked for a gift card to Best Buy
so I could buy myself a new keyboard.
I just hope I'm strong enough
to throw U out
when it gets here.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
tiny asian girl toddler with dark bouncy pigtails
holding hands with her mother
trips, falls.
face hits floor.
blood drips from nose
little red circle drips on the tiles of Costco
in the middle of a monday afternoon
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 12:04 AM UTC
He is ancient steadfast
I am sure he was here when the world was created
I am sure he will be here when it ends
His gentle face carved with hard lines
He poured forth knowledge in his native Persian tongue
He called me Shohre
I learned it was his sister's name
He looked at me like a granddaughter and treated me just as sweet
“Ghabl az enghalab...”
Before the revolution...
After which would follow painful reminiscing of
The days before the current regime
When wine bubbled out from Shiraz
Men and women danced late into the night
And soft voices wove love songs in street cafes
“Ghabl az enghalab moalem dar daneshgah boodam.”
Before the revolution I was a university professor.
“Yeki az daneshjooyanam Ahmedinejad bood.”
One of my students was Ahmedinejad.
And in English, clear as hate,
“He was a *******
One night I stayed back for extra lessons
We ate cherries from Costco and
Read excerpts from his autobiography
Pages crafted from right to left, vignettes of
His military service in Mashhad
And consequent teaching career
“Ba'ad az enghalab...”
After the revolution...
Was always followed with war stories
Political dissidents lost to Evin prison
Sharia law imposed on moderate minds
Escaping Iran by night with a phony visa
“Ba'ad az enghalab dar ketabkhane bayad kar konam”
After the revolution I had to work in the library.
“Khoastam yad bedahm, pas man o zanam be Amrika raftim.”
I wanted to teach, so my wife and I came to America.
He has not been home since 1981.
On December third of 2009 he walked smugly into the classroom
Setting a tape player happily on a desk.
He opened a folder from right to left
Produced a well-worn cassette
And played Happy Birthday, in Persian, for me.
He smiled at me with hands folded throughout the song
As I’d imagine he had smiled at
All the other special women in his life named Shohre.
He never played Happy Birthday for any of the other students.
Or gave them cherries,
Or went to their weddings,
Or held them while they cried when their grandfather died.
I do not know what he saw in me
But in each other we found family years and miles away from home.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
They had *** everywhere.
In the car,
Parked at Costco,
She teased him,
Bra-less under an unbuttoned shirt,
Her agile hand coated with a thin primer of Vaseline,
She stroked him slowly, precisely with a twist,
As somnolent sad faced suburban Sherpa,
Their neighbours and fellow citizens,
Hauled their apocalypse supplies
Across pristine acres of fresh asphalt,
Doped by fear,
Trapped inside the pixels of an infinite routine,
Unaware and
Unable to imagine life as a movie.
Out on the highway, as he drove,
She pulled up her skirt
And pulled down her tube top
Trucker’s horns roared their musical approval,
The benefits of a long haul driver were scant and skimpy,
Her ***** alive and anonymous,
Guilt free and aroused.
They ****** in washrooms,
Molested each other on escalators,
Texted friends while they copulated half clothed,
Shared their pride with angels dressed as ******
And counted their ******* like winnings at a casino,
Excited by the number and the game,
Their brains hot-wired,
Life a blur of alternating currents of sensation.
Death is constant state of ****** he told her,
When we leave this organic realm,
When we have finally turned the oceans into pudding,
And caged all of life,
When it is over,
We will enter into a cosmic stream of pleasure.
This is why the universe is expanding, he told her,
Pleasure is a colossal force,
The big bang was God’s ****** after all,
Her consequence the stars, the galaxies,
The dark palette of her entropy.
He was ******* her on a balcony while watching the moon
And waving to the woman with binoculars
When she asked,
Why is it so difficult,
Why do so many ignite pain and cant despair,
How did the curl and cling of hate
Take such deep root, she asked.
We fear death too well, he said,
And
Within the quick boundary of this moment
As they searched their waft and scent for clues,
They heard a whisper.
Inside the swell,
On top of a crest of acid clear thought
And without regret,
They forgave destiny,
Only to fly to the ground and beyond.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
I don’t know what it would be like but a man can dream,
I want to go grocery shopping with Jeandar, you know like a team.
She could drive and I would ride,
Backseat buckled bags by my side.
Where do you want to go?
Natural Pantry? Fred Meyer? Costco?
Ok well we’re gonna go get some healthy food,
Now taste this codliver oil come on don’t be rude.
Here take this bottle of oregano,
It’ll make your skin glow, dontcha know?
Can you go get the milk,
and I mean soy and it better be silk.
I’ll be in the vegetable section,
checking some asparagus for defection.
We’re not gonna get bread here,
We’re going to great harvest for real stuff dear.
Before we go grab a thing of cashews,
oh yeah and some vitamin-D too.
Have you been taking your vitamins?
Hey call Ivory and ask if she wants some treats,
We can find her some healthy snacks to eats.
Have you eaten dinner yet?
a place at the table we can still set
Make sure you wash your hands now,
That’s something I won’t disallow.
Goodnight, drive safe, call me when you get there,
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
Sleeping. A minute or two at a time. Mark. This guy hit somebody. Awake. Coat on. Front door out. A silver hatchback is parked blocking our driveway. Drivers Door opens. A man with dark hair gets out. Italian maybe. Takes three steps. Sees me. And at once without any acknowledgement beyond eyes meeting he is back in the car. And it's all you can do to stare at the rectangle of pressed aluminum. It's white characters on green. 638 UAR 638 UAR. And then his car is gone again but not before you glimpse the passenger side front quarter panel. What's left of it. Man he did a real smack. And then Still in Costco house shoes You listen to the scrape of his tires drive away and walk the outer line of the front fence along the line of cars parked in front of your house and up the front door of your rather dory sort of spry 84 year old neighbor. As you reach her front door You see it is open and only the glass screen door is shut. Think about rapping but reach for the doorbell instead. And there she is. Hi you say. A guy hit one of your cars out front. Four cars parked out front. two silver two redfish. Well come in she says. You apologize for the house shoes. A dad don't. As you step inside you realize how close to Christmas it really is. Her entire house. Silver & red. Four women Sitting around The dining room table. Someone's car has been Hit 84 says. The murmurs at the table soon turn into realizations. And questions. Which car? I don't know. He left. I just came here straightaway with the license plate. You realize you've been saying it aloud this whole time. 638 UAR. And now you and 5 bible studiers walk back outside. It's the first car. A white silver one. Joy for not much damage but Enough to pray over.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
(Type in “Robert Frost”)
Whose woods these are, I have no clue.
I should be in Kalamazoo;
I made a left instead of right
And saw Costco and a J. Crew.
My GPS must think it strange
That my cell phone is out of range.
I’m already late but I don’t care;
Once again, my plans will change.
I know that I’ve made a mistake.
I’ve passed two Sears, a Steak-n-Shake,
three Wal-Marts, and a Lowe’s or two,
A small bread shop that smelled of cake.
I drive and drive in my red Jeep.
I pass a farm and start to weep.
The only things I see are sheep.
The only things I see are sheep.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 1:11 AM UTC
Thank you Costco
for not calling the cops
as 3 dark ninjas
ran through your gate
fought over chocolate
pondered over flowers
crashed carts into books
and then disappeared.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
Skipping rocks on quicksand
covering my empire of dominos
that only fell for girls
with a general knowledge of obscure trivia:
an empire where Latin is a phoenix
rising from Ash Wednesday
for a fourth-quarter comeback
reunion Tour de France,
where the truth costs less than
**** jokes in bulk at Costco.
All this while I wait for christ
who cringes through crazy eights
with cards collected by Captain Crunch
from birthdays past.
I'd stop skipping rocks and appointments
if being swallowed
scared me like shoehorns
being anyone's weapon of choice
or the doctor's orders
including an extra fork for sharing dessert
but mainly the obsolete
laser for fixing Everything
hidden somewhere in a lab
coat worn by a wicked *****
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
Invalid curtains
Broken down houses
Mold is growing
Everywhere
Not many live here anymore
Used to be a boom town
babies born
Everyone was employed
Took coupons at
the company store
Milled that wood
Ground that red ore
they don't build
washing machines
around here anymore
Invalid curtains
blowing in a toxic wind
nuclear plant failed
but that wasn't
the end.
The wind is still blowing
down main street
twitching the
"For Lease" signs
If the mud doesn't getcha
The *** holes will,
Schools?
Salting the roads?
There isn't any more revenue
At least Rays is open
the general store
Thomas's, the hardware store
next door
Tony's One Stop Coffee Shop
Barney's Pharmacy
Sellin' out those Oxys
The gas station pulled out their tanks
The doctor's gone
The dentist closed
Got to go forty miles to go to Costco
Still catching trout
at Jackson Meadow
down the highway
Pulled out an 8 pound bass
Never knew it was there
Put it back
Old guy one more life to live.
Staying here is all we know
No one knows we're here
Just like that 8 pound bass
One more life to go?
even though
We keep hearing singing
in the sundown snow,
the dying song
of a dying town.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
12:45
The sun has gone black,
the world is asleep.
In the family room,
the television clicks on by itself.
It illuminates my father,
half-naked,
covered in processed cheese dust.
The channel changes to Cinemax,
******** ***********
My mother walks in
without her glasses,
and for a moment
her screams of disgust
are indistinguishable
from the throes of passion
broadcast on the cheap
Acer dad bought at Costco.
Elsewhere,
in South America,
a volcano has erupted.
It sprays debris
and detritus
over a small village
with a long name.
Postmodern Vesuvians **** ash,
frozen not with fear
but rigor mortis.
The CNN report plays for three hours.
The world moves on.
Later,
a man explodes in a convenience store.
Guts rocket outward,
onto wine coolers
and travel packages of Chex,
and the clerk just shrugs.
If you go there today,
all that’s left is the smell of ammonia
and a dark stain on the ceiling.
At the same moment,
a toddler steps off a cliff,
spiraling into the abyss,
but never stops falling.
He’s been going for days,
months,
years.
He has kept his audience updated
through a Bluetooth that we tossed down after him.
He’s had windburn since he fell,
but the ointment we sent
hasn’t reached him yet.
His parents are now expecting.
He just yawns.
In my family room,
the woman on Cinemax is climaxing,
screaming,
pulling her hair out
while a greased-up middle aged
pizza deliveryman autoerotically asphyxiates
himself with a hair tie.
As she wails for the last time,
the TV screen shatters,
glass ejected,
blazing through the air
like Flight 93
seconds before impact.
Sparks salivate from the exposed wires,
then cackle down
into a signed black.
And as this happens,
the children on Exeter St
stop crying.
The alcohol in a small town liquor store in Wyoming
un-ferments,
and the world, for a moment,
ceases to turn.
But only for a blink.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 2:02 PM UTC
Those **** things
lurch around each turn
as if they are lost children
who's mother is also lost
in some isle at Costco.
I know those arching
towers of rows
that hold cardboard boxes
reaching to skylights--
where each passing cloud
blinks for me
as I wander wide eye
for Costco brand cat food
hidden somewhere in the back.
*** holes are not the best at digging
but it's impossible for
my town to fill them,
as each one is a reminder
to our people
that we are irreplaceable.
That when time comes
and the clouds find their resting place
we will no longer crowd the isles
of Costco nor will clouds keep
blinking for us.
Instead our personality
will have dug it's trench
a minor engravement
into the cements and asphalt
of which we called our home.
For us they will leave
our history, appraisal
to the life that has thrived
a marker
that there was beauty
before us
and beauty with us.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
Soccer moms and sander scars
Suburban life is strange.
Play dates and in-line skates
Schedules to re-arrange.
Yoga teachers and lay preachers
And those are not a metaphor.
Costco trips and air-kiss lips
Nobody trusts a bachelor.
Coupon savers in SUVs
Never use turn signals.
Driving while chatting hands-free
Wearing golden **** whistles.
Appointments to make daily
With exercise gurus.
Cocktail luncheons for charity
Toddlers wearing tutus.
Traffic jams of cars and vans
Honking at each other.
Double parking on narrow streets
Calling each other mothers.
Starting out fifteen minutes late
As is the usual way.
Somehow never figuring out how
To have an on-time day.
Screeching home a night in time
To throw together a meal.
Watch television with family
And pretend that is all real.
Put the kids to bed right on time
Try to have quality time.
While the other half is half-asleep
From that second glass of wine.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
I remember the look on your face
when you told me about your first time.
How it was messy and frantic and hot,
and not in the romantic way.
How all he said was, “My friend’s got something,” and left.
Left you lying there, frozen in your drying sweat,
wondering..."What's he got?
Left you bare, vulnerable against the world,
against the war raging inside your head.
“He was a Costco shopper, his friend,”
you will tell me between sips of gin.
I remember the first burn of whiskey,
as you poured it into your hand...
and let me lick it off.
Not in the romantic way.
All you said was, "It's supposed to burn.
That's how you know you're alive."
I wondered what it'd feel like to die.
You left me bare, vulnerable and bleeding,
lying there with whiskey on my breath,
while you waged a war on your body.
"This is how I know I'm alive."
Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 5:58 PM UTC
some days walk past me like shoes in a lost costco
wake up late, it's 9 AM somewhere so it's not like you slept in.
beauty in the backwards dance of corrugated cardboard contact lenses
seeing what I see like I see see see, for Godsakes all I need to do is see.
once.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 5:07 PM UTC
As the sun sets over the Hackensack
Bums drink their old English behind Costco
Where the river flows
It snakes upwards towards the USS Ling
A World War Two submarine museum
Where a *** is nesting there
Along the river in a cardboard box
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
Discovered I forgot to post this on HP
Mar 25. 2010
Tony Boy – Chapter 2
A few weeks ago Tony was standing in the door way and said, “Grandpa?: Yes. “Grandpas need grandkids so they won’t get bored.” He is correct in that assumption since there is not a day that some surprise doesn’t pop up. I won’t be dying from boredom any time soon. I have been retired three years now and boredom is not a problem.
We were checking out at Target the other day and the checker and Tony was having a great conversation. As we were leaving, he turned around and said to the checker, “You are missing a tooth. You know that if you put it under your pillow, you can get some money for it from the tooth fairy.” The checker and the people in line were having a chuckle. Me, I laughed all the way to the car. When we got in the car he was questioning me as to why I was laughing. Oh, I just saw something funny.
Today (03/17/2010) we were in Costco foraging about 2:30. It is a great way to pass some time together. The food tables were set up and we had hit the ravioli stuff a couple of times already. The lady running it said one time she had noticed us coming in since he was in a stroller. Anyway, Tony headed back to get another sample and she was talking to a friend. As I rounded the corner Tony was talking to the friend. She was asking him how old he was. “Four.” At which she said, “You are smarter than my 15 year old.”
Tony is 5 today (3/24) A lot of people know his name. Me? Oh I am just Tony’s grandpa. A few weeks back we were in Sears to visit one of his many “friends”. Tammie was not available at the moment and we were wandering around looking at TVs. A fellow was down on his knees putting together a new display. Tony walked up to him and ask, “Do you know what you are doing?” The guy looked rather surprised and then the two got into a discussion of what tools to use. Tony told him about all the tools he has and what should be used on the job. Along came the usual question people ask Tony. “How old are you?” “I am four.” I heard the guy telling some of his fellow workers about being ask if he know what he was doing. They all had a good laugh together. We found Tammie and Tony got picked up and a BIG hug. Most of the people working in the electronics and appliance department know all about the little boy named Tony Boy. It is interesting to see their faces light up when Tony comes around the corner.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
The coolest girls in the world put rings in the places where doctors disconnected them from their mothers. Guys put ink in their forearms. Spaces in their ears. Their parents say things like, “what the **** But even they know ink and plastic gaps are better expressions than dead Vietnamese and **** Better expressions than a vote towards Michael Reagan’s father, the movie star.
You were the fools that bought homes, cars, and color tv’s on unprecedented credit, things for your daughters and sons that they would probably disparage if only they knew the word. You were the ******** that made Sam’s Club, because Costco and Wal-mart weren’t enough. The one’s that plugged us into free AOL accounts that Stater Brother’s gave you with your purchase of Pop Tarts and Cookie Crisps. I guess you could say the ink in our arms is yours as much as ours.
The thing about ink though, is that it’s more constant than anything this generation has ever known. When our TV’s become internet, and internet 4G, and 4G spaceships, the **** in our arms will persist as what was once alive. It will remind us of the life we lived before we were tattooed with the consumerism and media that you did nothing to stop.
Maybe you should have kept doing acid, you all were much more promising in the 60's.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
I’m split for time
So, offhand, here, I tip tap a rhyme
Dissecting and resembling
This Frankenstein text
Suffering, the ice of distance
Flagging the pole of our love
You’ve got a pull, no effort—enough!
Cursing the hailstorm that rains from above
And don’t get me started
See, I’m hardly smarting
Ice’s no price when you’re on thrice rejected
Yes, that’s no success
**** I’ve been there twice X neglected
—I’d guess you’d call that my best
So I turn from the possible
Down fantasy lane
Looking in the mirror at phantom me
Knocking on reflections, does it even have a name?
The ghost of the past made present with past pains
I swear these stains won’t come out
No matter how the tissue tears
No matter the boxes emptied out
Costco’s gonna need another round…
I shout into the silent replication
My reflected repetition
Distended, this pretender’s a sinner
Me? See, I’m a saint
And there’s no role for mercy
Hell, I’ll be thirsty when I’m thirty
And a little birdy told me you’re sturdy
So say hello to your pen-protector perfect nerd
Let’s curve the interrogation
Move on to you and I
Because honestly
I’ll lose if we get too far past “Hi.”
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
you always hated when i wore black
you said it washed me out, but i think that it really bothered you because it was a reminder of the little bits of darkness in me that you couldn't brighten,
no matter how many pastel
fit
n
flare
frocks
you bought and watched me drape over my bones
now i always have black on somewhere - just to say **** you from S Wabash St, Chicago
i let this one guy i liked in october use your favorite pink dress to wipe up his *** after a mediocre hand job and if we are going to be truthful ill admit that i felt nothing - i might have even smiled, picturing your face if you had seen what happened to the candy colored cotton
you were right, trying to keep black off my body - you were right because
I am
cold&
cruel&
fickle&
judgmental&
you werent right but a fool to think that i could be a wife who makes costco runs twice a month
and spends week days decorating mason jars with burlap and lace at a craft room desk
waiting for you to come home and not **** me on the counter in whatever easter hued garment i had on
you always hated when i wore black
and if we're still being honest i hate it too
but i need to learn to like how much it suits me -
as its the only reason why my shoulders cant fit into yours anymore
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Today I wore a dress. It was cold and my skin
pinched up in the wind. I hurt a strange and
angry sort of hurt today. Where my bones
shook and my stomach hurt but with my
sunglasses nobody on I-5 knew the difference
between singing and screaming and I ended up in Seattle
where the roads are confusing and the sky is stretched through
shuttle bus wires and the blinkers never stop, I may have blown a red
light but nobody noticed--especially when I ended up in Ballard. who knew
you could get back to Everett by skipping half the free way and by the time I
ended up back where I started I saw myself leaving hours earlier down the ramp,
decided I couldn't go home because I wasn't ready. I asked the boy at the ticket
counter which movie was the least less full? Sorry, least most full? Which theater
had the least amount of people (to see me cry) and he smiled strangely, but asked
for my ID. For a moment I remembered I wasn't 17, 17 was just that age where
you're allowed, I was so past allowed but here's my ID anyway, it was sticky.
I didn't watch that movie, what even happened? A man sat behind me,
grunting. I tried to cover my phone but my mind was elsewhere in
an anger that did not let me be mad. Instead I could only consider
the situation a hundred times over, consider the words
I could say, should say, would not say,
should not say, the things I should do,
the right
things (whatever they were)
the wrong things. At this point I noticed
the movie was crude, disgusting even. I hadn't even
laughed once. What kind of humor was
this? But again, my mind
was
elsewhere
and Stephanie wanted
to know where I was, where
are you? Where was I? I was at Costco
with mom earlier, how did I get here? I was laying on
my bed when I got that text but here I am now, soaked
in salt, although my bones no longer shake and my stomach
no longer hurts but these blankets know the difference between
screaming and singing, I know the difference. But I'm. Still. Here.
God, God, I don't know what to do or say or be. I don't
know what to do or say or be or say or do.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC