"cvs" poems
Three Minute Warning
A messenger delivers
A three minute warning
As I lay in bed at 10:30 am
(Resting in preparation for,
not from, our oops, early morning hike).
Breakfast will be ready in 3,
Get your **** in gear or else
It will be cold, I'll be mad,
And you will answer to a
Higher Authority.
No problem cause I already know
All I need is two.
Splash water on my face
Now I'm presentable
enough to the human race,
current company probably won't be happy,
But I ain't telling her, are you?
Shave! You crazed?
It is a three day weekend,
Every day a July Fourth,
Celebrating freedom from the European tyranny,
Of shaving smooth every day!
Splash water on my head, count with me,
Five brush strokes as you can plainly see
Is a classic case of overcompensating
In my geling n' hair stylin'
Brush my teeth, well,
I hope 2 full minutes of rinsing with CVS
Green stuff, mouthwash, will have to suffice.
Blast my deodorant both sides,
Long and strong, wearin' now
My bold blue *** husk of musk,
Cause I am a very considerate fellow
Who happens to really have stunk.
Clean T- shirt and shorts,
Yes, clean underwear too,
Leaves me a whole minute to write this scribble.
My flip flop noises coming down the hallway,
Are the butler announcing our joint arrival,
Me and my poem.
Lest you think this is paean to men
Another grand male boast,
Be advised this ditty be writty
By a man who, while no longer gritty,
Just put jelly on his scrambled eggs
And ketchup on his toast!
Mmmmmmm there might be a poem
Lurking in that too...
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
It's a nightmare of a journey
Through the Rose Hills.
White roses cover death
Along side the 50mph ride.
We'll speed down the boulevard
Turning right, swerving left.
Drink some beer on Broadway,
Smoke some cigarettes at CVS.
Then I'll fill your heart with rose petals
And regret.
You grin and whisper gently
I'll meet you in Whittier at Sunset.
Lets muddle through Greenleaf
Under a cerulean sky.
I got lost in the time held in your eyes.
I stumble back to only trip into your disguise.
Only to drown in your lips and lies.
Dragging our souls to Hellman's and back,
I'll find you on Hadley letting the sun in,
Wilted in Whittier at sunset.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
The clock gets me.
It comes to me in the middle of the night
Pulls back the sheets and says, "Hey fucko."
Then it lifts open my sobby wet sand-encrusted lids,
It knows when I'm trying at sleep, pumping quarters
Like I was swallowing yawns, sometimes I try to squint
Harder and take a dream to the next level, whatever
The next level is. It's like Friday night when I wanted to go
Out to do something, whatever something is.
Because I know that if I don't I'll miss that thing that's so
Important that if I were to miss it the clock wouldn't come for me
Again.
And on Tuesday's when I'm knotting a dream around 2 o' clock
In the morning, my web-footed adventure, say, killing your
Boyfriend, say
Fighting the Nazis, say,
Rediscovering that you sent nudie pics to
That rando guy we met in that club that lives
in Prague-
I throw the clock at the ******* wall.
Because who knows, I make the bed wrong
Or maybe I don't cook right, or look right, or
Smile the right way at the right
Time. And you start thinking that I have to die.
The bane of my existence is an imagined feat in your
Walnut-sized brain, slowly numbing us while we're
Supposed to be, say
Listening to the rich, Oxford voice of
David Attenborough.
Instead you're thumbing through that index
of CVS cashiers, just trying to find a scruffy face
To flip your digits to, your homemade justification. It becomes
A feat, an unjust cause of mine to
Get it right, that imaginative and artificial bit you've
Been sewing up Monday twilight.
That's when I go out and jaw your sister, somewhere between
A smirk on your face and a bit of anger at the end of your sentences.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
First I wrapped the Belkin cover on my 64GB iPad
tight shut with 3M shipping tape
then I glued one helium Happy Birthday teflon balloon
from CVS Pharmacy on each corner with SuperGlue
and took it down to the beach.
Kneeling at the tip of the tide
I beseeched the gods
accept this offering
heal my disbelief
make my body and soul whole. . .
I’ve stopped adding Abilify to my antidepressant
and I’m scared to feel the emptiness again.
I launched my little ship
on the next outgoing surge
as a Red Bull can bobbed beside
and I closed my eyes in supplication.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 6:33 AM UTC
You know how when
You put a kettle on a stove,
Maybe for tea
Or something else maybe
You get the kettle
To put on the stove
And you put water in it
From the tap
Or if you're in
The inner city
Then maybe from
A jug
From cvs
Or rite aid
I don't know which is closer
To your kettle
That you're putting the
Water in
To put on the stove
But the tap smells funny
And tastes like minerals
And artificiality
So if you have a bit of money, Maybe an on-tap
Filter or brita
You turn the little
**** on the front
Of the oven
And you hear
The distressed, hurried
Sound of a component
Desperately trying
To do its job
It seems like forever
But it's just a couple
Seconds
The spark catches
The gas
And glorious blue
Energy leaps out
And causes
Instant condensation
On the side of the
Kettle you've filled
With water
And put on the stove
And then
Primordial chemistry
As old as old
Changes ****
Around inside
No time
For a chem lesson
Just listen
And then after a few minutes
A blast of
Piping hot
Shrill
Pure energy
Explodes out of the top
In an earsplitting
Harried call
To you to let you
Know the kettle
You put on the stove
Is now ready
For you.
All that pressure,
From so much activity,
Before you even
Turned the heat on
You walked around
Gathering materials
And moving about
And all the calories
You burn thinking
About it
And then the
Thermal activity
Which is breathtaking
In its simple
But ever so complicated
Perfect order
And predictability
And all of this simply
Amazing process
Culminates
In one constant,
High energy geyser
Of released pressure.
This is equivalent
To the results
Of one thought
About you.
What a life
As a kettle.
Yea.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 11:07 PM UTC
imagine reaching deep into yourself,
past any sense of doubt or regret,
and reliving what made you -you-.
saturday mornings when your dad
cut grass and expected help he didn't ask for while bacon and eggs waited
in the kitchen,
or sundays where evening cartoons robbed you, so you wished
for extra sleep before sermons
and trips to CVS.
or holidays alone because jobs
are demanding, and it won't happen
again next year, where stillness forms into repression,
fueled by discomforts, angsts,
sadness.
and it isn't until much later
that the light of your own existence
takes root, petals up toward the sun,
and chooses to flourish.
Jun 26, 2023
Jun 26, 2023 at 2:04 AM UTC
Venting.
They never see the hollow me..
deleted twitter, but i want you guys to follow me..
Usually up late,
worrying about my luck, wait..
there's a starving child somewhere..
meanwhile i just ate..
****** *** my phone bills high, And my ex girl is taken...
meanwhile a small girl in Nepal still feels her world shakin...
Going 80 on the freeway, i just wanna bowl now..
While the folk down in Philly prayed the train would slow down...
Bothered by the shade of a new building...
while people in Haiti are still building..
still building...
while i buy building blocks for my nephew, hes 1.
while the people down in Baltimore burning buildings for fun...
really?
burning building for fun?
Whys the CVS big, but the school with no funds?
but they say the solution is, taking the guns...
they took the guns in Chicago, but left fatherless sons.
Eyebrows on fleek but societies bleak.
the devil takes a seat in a heavenly street..
now were all cursed, but im watching netflix on my sofa..
Chilling bumping Sosa, living by the park where they ***** my neighbor Rosa..
Gotta remind myself daily...that im blessed to a fault..
because theres stillborn babies, whose heads rest in a vault..
boys in Africa begging for bread, while i toast my *****
on the beach enjoying summer the waters too cold to swim though..
while in New Orleans they had to jump in regardless..
but all my worry is, if my sister can pass her BAR test..
So next time i wanna vent under my AC vent...
i stop and think, **** i dont even have to pay rent..
I dont gotta work doubleshifts and im never hungry..
plus a got a couple people who really love me..
So..
Next time that i wanna complain..
Ill scale my struggle on a real measure of pain.
-afj
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
I don’t ****
With the farm life
At these pharmacies
Affecting brains
Like the mad cow disease
These pills
CVS deal
Like the new
Dope man
Dopamine can be
As mean
As the M and M’s
The doctor prescribes
Dropping dreams
For a little bit
Of “rest at ease”
While the rest
Of these fiends
Lie
To themselves
And me
Meaning
The mean green
****
Killing machine
Can extract
The euphoria
You make yourself
By resting eyes
On your family
Your fam would be
Much happier
If you were
Happy
For yourself
More water is
Fine
I don’t need
No help
Championship ****
I don’t need
No belt
Pants sag
Like the bags
In grandma eye’s
Cries
As she tries
To pry dope needles
Out a dead man's hands
Handing himself
To the Devil’s food
We put on
A pedestal
Meanwhile stools
At the bar
Spin like the
Mind
Of a man with little time
Left
Right in the eyes
Of his children
He makes
A short trip
After one more sip
****
I guess
It boils down
To the bear essentials
Bear the bruises
With the heart
God gave you
Don't let them fool you
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:02 AM UTC
i walk a line
some where between listening to myself
and listening to God...
if i truly believed i'd burn in hell
i suppose i wouldn't smoke that chronic i bought
and if i truly believed i'd burn in hell
i'd probably do my homework,
stop saying "fuck"and make sure to not flirt with men that weren't mine
picture this weekend scene;
saturday night, basement
drink in hand
smoke inhaled as clean and clear as everyday air
i would tell that nice boy
with the lip ring and name that starts with a "b"that i was taken by a special man
and ... and..excuses....
let them go let them roll as smooth as bacardi straight from the handle
bought at the local CVS by a bought-off ***
i guess i'm a girl that believes in hell on a bad day
when all bad things
poverty, homelessness, grandma's cancer and stubbing your toe
comes in the form of your dorm roommate
drunk at two am hollering and arranging the mini fridge,
when all the bad things feel as though they affect you directly
and if i truly believed i'd burn in hell
i'd be the girl that appreciated that remembers there's a merciful God
twenty-four seven always
but realitywho forgets
that life is a mystery
i write and it flows
and i know that these words are exaggerated because my conscious knows
i never miss a lecture, and is faithful to the one beautiful boythat actually gives a **** the day after
i'm the girlthat smokes a bowl
and worries about her soul
picture this weekend scene:
alone with a man
gorgeous and caring as could ever be
frozen lake front
wrapped in his arms,
perfect any teen girl couldn't want anything more
but unhappiness rests in me
it rests in his arms, sure neglected for a day or two
but this girls knows
clearity in mind strength through living empirically
and if i truly believe'd i'd go to heaven
i'd stop letting my worries write these ****** *** poems
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 1:06 PM UTC
I board a public bus
A graying bus driver is a woman and then morphs into a man
A normal experience within a dream
My eyes glaze over as I assume a state of aloofness
As I tend to do when surrounded by unfamiliar people
As some sort of defense mechanism
As if the otherworldly look in my eyes
Will thwart the formation of an ill intention forming in the mind of a stranger that occupies the bus with me
Just in case
Two older men are on the bus
I don't validate their existence
When I am aloof
It feels like I am the only person truly alive
Everything gradually grows dimmer
As my inner world roars as loudly as an amphitheater.
The bus drives for hours
I've never been on this bus before and I've never been to the town I am traveling to
I'm going there to check out a church
Even though I'm not a Christian
Hours pass...
I start falling asleep in my dream
The bus has no stops
Finally, the bus reaches the end of its route
I am dropped off in front of a CVS along with the other two male passengers
One scruffy old man leers at me and smiles at me
But I act as if I didn't see him
I have no idea how to get to the church
It's getting dark
All that is around is the CVS, the bus stop, and a road with an onslaught of cars driving in either direction
Why did I make this hours long trip if I didn't even know exactly where I was going?
If only I could cross the wide street to get to the other side where the bus stop for the bus back home is
But I can't
The cars were driving at fast speeds and their was a constant flow of them
So I stood in that nakedness of uncertainty and abounding possibility
Stuck and calculating
As the sun set over this foreign place I ended up in
All because I was seeking some purpose
And yet, it brought me so far away from home,
the comforts and luxuries and certainties of home
Yet, when I awoke, something deep and vital within me knew
That I will never find my purpose within the comfort of my home.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania
genuine snow white hair
upon her noggin doth adorn,
perhaps she will divulge to me (in private)
after i croon (to said lass),
the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn
hmm...or, maybe this mission
perchance twill be doomed from the start,
and hence finding me forlorn
thenceforth, a backup contingency measure,
would warrant me to don my thinking cap,
and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold
each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap
plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness),
aye also resort to buttress
any aural "stormy Dani yelling)
via walled in interlap,
which accouterment functions
as a double agent i.e. (or,
to be rather crude),
an audiological jockstrap
to vet or figuratively kneecap
any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap
ping "FAKE" distracting news
inducing madcap
mass media circus
driving this generic teetotaler
to pour himself a nightcap
essentially providing wig gull room
with very little margin of ear err, or overlap
against bigwigs to trumpet pap
pill low ma rendered free and clear
asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi
charting imp pea ching fear
bringing out bare arms
most likely something internuclear
simply to discover visa vis authenticity
if cute employee
(sporting hair
white as the ****** snow),
which doth simmer and glare
blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses
(I choose the Ray-Ban brand)
as recommended by cited
all time favorite pharmacist
who unwittingly (or simply because
my myopic eyes didst stare)
fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling)
explaining any reason to go THERE
to CVS - that tis where.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
they told me not to sip too much from the solo cups
if I didn’t want to get ***** tonight.
the feminist issue here is not keeping up
but keeping low, keeping unnoticed,
staying as safe as that moldy orange in the Safeway,
never gonna get plucked up and ***** that way.
they told me not to indulge my senses and enhance my intoxication
levels at risk of decreasing my chances of
survival against a ******
attacking me.
they told me I feel like I need to keep up with the guys with my drinks,
match my stack of cups to theirs, and I just think
that’s ******** I just want to drink my ****** beer,
but they said that’s how I’ll get *****
well maybe I binge on a lot of bad habits.
I pile them up on the CVS counter like a checklist of things not to do
smoke, spend too much money and time on ebay bidding on
vintage rings and things I’ll never need, eat a row of oreos out of
my roomate’s care package,
and drink too much at the occasional
party where I fraternize with the males from planet greek,
but does that make me guilty for getting *****
today I woke up feeling like a damaged cause,
like a present that fell out of the back door of a UPS truck going
75 miles per hour on the highway in East Tennessee
and I never got to my destination.
should I have buckled my seat belt tighter?
society makes me feel crazy for thinking I can try to prevent
a violent act of maddening hate against a woman’s body,
or maybe a man’s, let’s not discriminate,
brought on by alcohol, late night musing, and punch bowl brewing.
maybe they should tell the rapists to keep their pants zipped
and their ***** to themselves unless they are requested.
keep your hands in your pastel short pockets and
let me go on with my business of being a proud, righteous woman.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
In 2009, The american disaster film "2012" was released.
Preparing for "The End of The World" was easy.
A piece of cardboard at a Red Light.
"2012 The End Is Nigh, What's a dollar?"
We might as well have smiled, given a friendly wave,
honked our horns like we were passing the Freeport Flag Ladies.
In 2012, I was in high school with my first job.
I didn't care that In the twinkling of an eye,
we were gonna hear God's last trumpet.
On Rapture-Eve, I set out "Milk N' Cookies" for the "Left-behind"
I left next mornings outfit on the side of the road as if Angels abducted me butt-ass naked mid-stride
Turns out, the red light never turned green.
The "left-behind" kept breeding
and Hell on earth just kept recruiting
Now it's 2020,
The Freeport Flag Ladies are in Quarantine,
the signs have needles in our eyelids like mechanical spiders,
You can't even turn the news off now,
I pick it up at CVS Like a Controlled substance prescription.
They make you call in once a month to get it refilled.
Some how my amazing wife Amy and I
Not only survived the rapture,
we brought a brand new life into it.
For 10 days we were locked in a hospital
We never looked at the news.
The world melted away as we danced together
Waiting to meet our little miracle.
After Amy was whisked away for intensive surgery
and survived the most unspeakably amazing thing in the world
a nurse eventually grabbed me and asked if I wanted to meet my daughter,
I was guided to a baby table
with knobs, meters, heat lamps,
and on a tiny cushion
in a tiny plastic crib,
My daughter.
Sophia Naomi Mae Coulombe.
wide eyed
staring into my pupils
wiggling
perfect
Now we are home.
No nurses, no IV.
Somehow it feels like the end of the world and all it's chaos
was the best thing that has ever happened to us.
Everything happened exactly when it needed too.
We couldn't have had better timing
if God planned it.
Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 1:39 AM UTC
they told me not to sip too much from the solo cups
if I didn’t want to get ***** tonight.
the feminist issue here is not keeping up
but keeping low, keeping unnoticed,
staying as safe as that moldy orange in the Safeway,
never gonna get plucked up and ***** that way.
they told me not to indulge my senses and enhance my intoxication
levels at risk of decreasing my chances of
survival against a ******
attacking me.
they told me I feel like I need to keep up with the guys with my drinks,
match my stack of cups to theirs, and I just think
that’s ******** I just want to drink my ****** beer,
but they said that’s how I’ll get *****
well maybe I binge on a lot of bad habits.
I pile them up on the CVS counter like a checklist of things not to do,
smoke, spend too much money and time on ebay bidding on
vintage rings and things I’ll never need, eat a row of oreos out of
my roomate’s care package, and drink too much at the occasional
party where I fraternize with the males from planet greek,
but does that make me guilty for getting *****
today I woke up feeling like a damaged cause,
like a present that fell out of the back door of a UPS truck going
75 miles per hour on the highway in East Tennessee
and I never got to my destination.
should I have buckled my seat belt tighter?
society makes me feel crazy for thinking I can try to prevent
a violent act of maddening hate against a woman’s body,
or maybe a man’s, let’s not discriminate,
brought on by alcohol, late night musing, and punch bowl brewing.
maybe they should tell the rapists to keep their pants zipped
and their ***** to themselves unless they are requested.
keep your hands in your pastel short pockets and
let me go on with my business of being a proud, righteous woman.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
I'm sick and the cure is somewhere by your thighs
Or what lies in your eyes
When I get stricken by your pupils
My eyes don't lie
I'm gazing in a area where I know it's amazing
The imprint
Makes my jaws clinch
That tingling feeling penetrates my mouth
There's a puddle underneath my tongue
Hold up let me take care of that
(Gulp)
Yeah the imprint
And the tight denim that fit it
Shorts that's well lifted
Thighs are real gifted
Glazed and smooth
(Oops a drool)
Back to the thighs
The tender side
Right in the middle
Right before the gristle
Can you see the imprint of my missile?
Not all the way stiffened , but the pre still sort of drizzle
I try my best to hide it
As I think of how you can ride it
Ride it
Ride it
Ride it
Rising
Rising
Rising
OH I CAN'T NEVERMIND IT
Let me think of sports
Instead of ***********
(Ok ima try it again)
Ok that space I don't know if it's declared as your waist
But under your navel above your laced
Spell my name with my tongue, scribble over it , erase
Indent a few times
And skip to the next line
Extra credit a perfect heading
I can give it to you just right
What? MLA or APA format?
I can turn the page
The page
Your back page tacked upwards in the air
Takes my breath away
It's a work of art
A mural so well put together and separated at the same time
With a dark tunnel of sensation smack dab in the middle
The best part of that collage is how you're looking back at me for confirmation
And I just draw your attention to the opening of your tunnel
Kind of crafty how you shake while I'm in place
You have more definition than the 3rd
Your silhouette makes me figure that you shape my life
Your sketch draw the line between real and fake
Your art is too curvaceous for any 'ol man hand's to trace
Your art is just so fine and liberal
Your touch is just so sensual and Midas
Your feeling is more like warm apple cider breaking through my cold body
Your taste reminds me of cinnamon or fudge
And when your milk drips I hate for it to miss my lips
I miss those lips
I wish that it was a button that I can click that don't stiffen my wrist to stimulate that ********
I don't need a GPS to locate my CVS
Give it to me
I'm in symphony
Them old fashion home remedies
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 4:22 AM UTC
Coughing up the phlegm
I've come to realize, this big surprise
no longer can I keep it to myself
Stuff like this can grow inside the body
and it's snotty
but you need to know the facts now for yourself.
and if the sputum's yellow,
be assured that it is viral
but can spiral
into something worse
a curse or so they say
so take the time to rest
and yes,
drink water and some juice
and for a boost,
vitamin C, 1000 mgs
just twice a day.
and by all means
take your cold to Walgreen, Eckerts, CVS, or Rite Aid,
where there's medicines that might aid and I might add
many brands that you can choose from~
Robitussin stops your fussin'
Advil Sinus for your highness,
by and far my favored Nyquil night-time
is the stuff I get my snooze from
if you've got a fever and it's green
you're infected, should be seen
do not delay if it is grey
or other colors of the day
because these bugs are nasty
downright mean!
cozy up with Vicks upon your chest
mentholatum tends to clear the passage best
a little dab will also do
beneath the nares it is true
external balms and lotions help you rest.
a clean humidifier by the bed
keeps the moisture in your tissues
and that said
keep a box of Kleenex near
the softest kind will feel most dear
and place your favorite pillow 'neath your head.
It's good to keep some chicken soup on hand
it's value has been known throughout the land
keep the heat on, be a ***** and
and crack the window just a pinch
and try to sleep as much as you can stand.
in time you will recover from this hell
your symptoms will subside and you can tell
but be sure to keep your guard up,
avoid crowds
and don't be hard up,
just insist they keep their distance,
and stay well!
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 9:44 AM UTC
Revolt is not Riot
Appropriate reaction to state violence
80% unemployment for black youth
Poverty has its roots
In Slavery
Victims of death by ******
Unnatural
He did it himself they say
He died
His neck snapped
And broke the silence
Disturbed the peace
Inciting violence
Sparked Light
Of resistance
In the hearts and minds
Of the confined
And fear in the hearts of those who don't matter to mind
Modern lynchings
At the hands of police
And they call us thugs?
When we're killed for making eye contact
Or walking home from a store run
By maniacs with or without licensed guns
For having the nerve to shop in Walmart
Or playing with a toy gun
You know,
Cops and robbers?
But what happens when cops are now robbers of lives and justice in our communities
Then all too often they shift the narrative to you and me
Of why unemployed and underemployed thugs are stealing food from the grocery
Occupied like Syria and Iran
For failing to purchase
With dollars they don't have
In a store like CVS that is insured by the flag
How will order ever be restored?
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
you-blunt-smoking-instaweed-post-on-facebook-weed-smoker
you-blonde-at-the-cvs-pharmacy-that-had-a-high-school-abortion-and-was-ostricized
you-proud-and-sober-born-again-praise-the-lord-believer
that posts
pixilated baby photos
peach-flavored blunt wrappers
a bad picture of a lonely flower
who are you
you are looking more aged every year
I don't know who is sadder.
I am sorry I speak poorly of you
I do not know what happened to me
I do not know what happened to you
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
Dear Ian
The First always tastes like honeyed-sunlight on cheek and windowpane:
first kiss, first cigarette, first rooftop.
I never wanted to come down.
Dear Greyson
Beautiful and empty.
Our hands didn't fit right.
Dear Anton
Thank you for kissing prayers into the crosses on my forearms.
It wasn't enough.
I'm sorry I kept you on your knees.
Dear Eli
**** you.
Dear Wyatt
We were high and you were there.
Your mouth tasted like sour milk
and I was lonely in the morning.
Dear Ian
Snorting coke off my naked body was all you needed.
I think I caught you too late.
Dear Cody
Thanks for the ****
I'm sorry I made you leave--
I couldn't stop looking at the orchid petals falling on my windowsill.
Dear Howard
I never realized my power
until the day I let you finger me in the seasonal section of a CVS.
Dear Sky
Loving you was like loving river currents.
I lost myself in the way you looked at me like
you were looking past me.
I'm still learning how to let go of dead things.
Dear Jessica
I was high on painkillers for the 6 months you tried
to bring me back down.
But if you had a condo on a cloud
I'd have stayed at your place.
Dear Robert
I just needed a prom date.
Don't read into it.
Dear Sarah
You and spring rains are synonymous.
Dear Vanessa
Venus.
Someday I'll come back.
We'll paint piazzas into dusk.
Dear Maya
Your lips were swollen honeysuckle and I was all hummingbird.
I wish you could've held me after.
Dear Alyson
We never met in person,
but the way you glittered behind my phone screen
fogged up the glass with light-hot possibility.
Our timing wasn't right.
Dear Amélie
"On n'aime que ce qu'on ne possède pas tout entier."
Dear Izzy
I would've sewn stars down your backbone.
That night at the End of the World, we held eternity in our fingertips.
or maybe it was just the *****
Dear Brendan
Drunken lapse in judgement.
I'm not "experimenting", I'm actually gay.
Dear Sara
I wish I was looking for something casual.
The Washington Sq. Park fountain will always be holy.
Bless my forehead whenever.
----
Dear Jesse
It's time to fall in love with your palms.
They fit together perfectly.
Plant chrysanthemums in your abdomen
and let yourself bloom again.
Like it's the first time.
Like you owe it to yourself.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
one time I was thinking about money.
and it was late at night.
I don't remember what I was thinking
oh yea I had just started this new business
get rich quick scheme
pyramid of sorts
and I was planning and plotting
planning and plotting on how I would make hundreds of
thousands of dollars
by the end of the year
I couldn't sleep
it must of been
well past midnight
I had taken in a woman
a homeless woman
we made a whole day out of it
smoked synthetic marijana
she was coming down off of herione
and I couldn't sleep .
I went to CVS
to buy
nyquil
so I could sleep
in my bed
back home
next to this beautiful creature I had brought home.
we prayed that day
and cried
together
I was thinking so hard about that money
I went into the CVS
i had no shoes on ,
snobbishly
I picked my items
and I was thinking so hard
about that money.
the guy .
the guy at the counter runs my card
and it won't go though
the outrage I thought
I was thinking so hard about that money
I musta had like a couple dollars in my bank,
I had spent it all
on that synthetic marijuana.
but I was snoobish
and thinking hard about that money,
and he started to look faint
and I swear my glare didn't change ,
my face remained the same
emotionless
and I was thinking so hard about that money
it was well past midnight
and I was thinking so hard about that money
he started to get white
and my expression remained the same
and I was thinking so hard about that money
and he stumbled from behind the counter
he didn't look so good
it was well past midnight
and I was thinking so hard about that money
and then he got sick
and my expression didn't change
and my card wouldn't go through
and nobody cared.
and I was thinking so hard about that money,
and I wanted to steal those items,
and I was outraged that my card didn't go through
and I didn't help him,
I still can't believe I didn't help him,
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
He told me i was prettier in person
the night after we kissed in my best-friend's foyer
awkwardly missing the mouth because he was afraid
he would make a mistake
with a mistake
who had acne on her lip
and crooked teeth he'd luckily missed
when he kissed mouth closed
the second time
He told me Jesus Christ I was lovely
the moment I returned home
to cover my legs unfairly scratched by grass and flowers
with CVS brand diaper rash ointment, all over my fingers,
in my eczema cracks,
because I couldn't take the pain on my knees any longer
He told me to please not move
when I laid my head on his shoulder,
my unshaven arm round his waist and unshaven leg touching his own
and I could feel the bridge of my long nose
pushing in to the carotid artery where his heart pulsed faster and faster
as he ran one soft and gentle hand through my hair
and held my eczema cracks in his other, my grandmother hands,
that the other boy had called contagious, and the other girl had called
Alligator Skin
He told me he loved to walk behind me
though i had forgotten to suffer through bra stuffing
and wore baggy pants to prevent my knees against the trees
and my figure resembed a giraffe, knobly and unkept mane and all
He told me nothing
when He leaned in to kiss me a second time
and He put his hands in my mane
and His leg under my CVS knees
and His face in my Alligator hands
and my unstuffed bra near his chest
And His open mouth on my acne covered, crooked toothed mouth
because I am prettier in person
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
the bridge you passed has bodies under it, get over your fear of lying and get on your tummy and let's play wheelbarrow with those stems I scooped up from CVS and pre-cut for you before I got to the front door. Not only do I like that your mom likes that I like to get you them; you wear how content you are with we based on how you meet the needs of a poppy or a daffodil. Nothing does buckets of flowers good like a little bit of teenage romance. But we're not still digging the crotch out of our fingers or filing down or ****** cards anymore, now are we? We have multimedia, social networking, label, after ******* label and acquaintance both tertiary and intimate to reconcile differences, the advice we've never asked for but always been given. No one will ever tell me what I deem tolerable, especially you. I know that after saying how you've never disappointed me you must have felt some guilt, an unintentional result of once again attempting my position in thwarting any emotional pain that continues to be unresolved. We spoke of being funny and pushing boundaries but not breaking our circle of contentedness. But instead by sleeping in our arms until the side on which you lay molds my arm inside of it, and we are made one.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 6:20 AM UTC
Saw an old man
Working at CVS
I bet his bones ache
I know the sight of the man
Made my heart break
Saw a kid on the way home
Sitting alone
He had a nose leaking blood
And arms crossed
Not to let anyone in
Cause I bet he was scared that **** would happen again
Got home turned on the telly
Two sides going at it quite heavy
But neither stand for me
They never did stand for me.
Wife comes home her feet
Are beaten up the shifts
Are piling up
I feel wild in love
Bite through barbed wire for those I love
But it's not enough
Empathy
I watch those around me
Pushed down
But they get up
If my cups full
I'd give half to you
Enjoy that half
Its not a gift
It's what you're supposed to do.
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 9:30 AM UTC
Twenty is a number of perspective
To a kindergartner it is old
not "really old" like thirty
but still old.
To a man in his nineties
it might seem young, a long-ago-young
a time through which many of his friends,
Americans abroad,
didn't make it through.
Twenty dollars is a lot to a man
in an old coat
sitting on a bench in DuPont Circle
being handed a bag from CVS
containing a toothbrush
some soap and
new socks.
To a woman standing in line
at a Starbucks
glancing out the window to admire
her new Range Rover....
Twenty dollars is nothing
pocket change
she'll spend it here in this line
over the course of the day.
And what of me?
Of my perspective?
Twenty is measured in years
Hard ones
Not quite as hard ones (face it, it's never easy)
Years filled with laughter and watery eyes
Of jubilation and anguish
But years through which I can not imagine another path that I could have taken
to get here
to this point
this moment
with you.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 8:19 PM UTC
and as i tap on my keyboard making noises unspeakable i notice that
somewhere between the Y and the I is a U, and I wonder why apple would set up such a cliché
a metaphor I would want to use in times like this where my writing is vulnerable and uncouth
i can’t even be angry with you, against you pressing on your V line since
i knew the movie was bad
i mean i just knew it as soon as the VCR ****** in the thick, boxy, tape
that this film was going to be just like the others— immature and messy,
you were unable to articulate the simplest of my sentences
insert line here
you didn’t even look new, you weren't even an opportunity
you told me you were willing to be the elevated beam in my single music note that we would create harmonies even my mother would like to hear
but she hated you
and you didn’t understand why I liked Bach more than Mozart, or why I didn’t like Mozart at all
you weren't a gentleman, but I am beginning to think those don't exist until well into our 30s
when our hearts are tender enough to feel empathy
you don’t deserve a poem, or the image of heaven
the capital letters you rained in my text messages made my eyes open a little bit wider
i went to cvs and i bought the twix the blanket and the *****
we used to do that together
asian men still write me poems for the morning, i walk out of dorm rooms with water that never knew the cold
and my head it; pounds from dehydration, its been a while since I’ve been in love
but some us are
in love i mean
the dumb ones, the despicable ones
how are they achieving something the kids with 4.0 gpa’s couldn't make an equation for
insert lines here
and why the hell do i keep looking at my phone, waiting for your name to shine bright telling me what to do what to say
insert lines here
why did you sleep with her, on her, side by side, parallel making hexagons and trapezoids keeping me out of the loop
why did i say ok
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 8:00 PM UTC