Fancy Nancy O'Clancy,
From the fanciest part of town,
Came to the Saturday Dance
Wearing the fanciest gown.

The ladies all noticed how Nancy,
From the moment she took off her shawl,
Held all the boys in a trance,
As the fanciest girl at the ball.

I knew right away that miss Nancy
Would dance with each guy for a while,
But for me there wasn't a chance;
I knew that I wasn't her style.

The fellas all gathered 'round Nancy,
But through them, I managed to see;
Her eyes met mine in a glance,
And Nancy smiled at me.

My heart stood still for a moment,
My temperature rose a degree,
I thought there might be a chance
That Nancy would dance with me.

I walked 'cross the room toward Nancy,
Determined I wouldn't be meek;
I started to ask her to dance,
But I was too nervous to speak.

For a while we just stared at each other;
When the tension appeared at it's worst,
A voice from the crowd broke the trance,
Saying, "Look who she's dancing with first!"

Though trembling, I escorted Nancy
To the dance floor while everyone stared;
The music began and we danced,
And that's when I knew that she cared.

Fancy Nancy O'Clancy
Waltzed with me all through the night,
And since that Saturday dance,
She hasn't been out of my sight.

Now me and Nancy O'Clancy
Are married and glad as can be,
All because Fancy Nancy
Took a fancy to me.

Pathetic life
Been used the entire life
Night and day
By old and young
Male or female
Servant to all
Even at the fanciest washroom
Seduced and Thrown away by all

Edie was caught in the claws of copulation.
She was attractive, with no roots showing
on the top of her scalp.
Great ****, great ***, could hold a conversation.
Everyday, she got into her workhouse of a car,
more home than her dingy apartment, and drove
to her first "appointment."

But on this day, the appointment that loomed ahead of
her had her shower cold and her face white.

She drove past an old movie theatre
and an abstract and title company with
the fanciest sign in town.
It was Edie's favorite.

She glanced out the window.
A regular ******* standing on the sidewalk was chatting
up a woman who looked bored stiff
and there was a young man a few jumps
away who couldn't hold his liquor.

"Pathetic," Edie muttered.

An average run-of-the-mill bar slouched behind
them and there were ridiculous looking people
spilling out the door.
But only those who had survived the night before.

Across the street, a newspaper dispenser ***** and chained
to a light pole stood content as its contents spilled from
it's belly like the guts of a dead gazelle.
Like the guts of it's readers.
Like the guts of a building out an open window.

Edie's ******* were sore and hurt after the
manhandling of last night.
They began with a ***** that got straight to
the point and then they did too.
He had advertised himself as "sweety but meaty"
and Edie discovered later
that his genitals were uncircumsized and below average.

Oh well.
Submission.

She had a headache in the morning and no aspirin.
Her decision was to stop later and get some.
But before then, she had something to take care of.
Something big that needed to be handled.
Something she hoped would be brief.

"Something," she thought, "that's for **** sure."

She pulled into a front spot in her black '98 BMW,
fixed her make-up, then her hair.
Edie closed her eyes, took in a rather large
amount of oxygen,
exhaled and stepped out of the car.
She had a hankering for eggs after all.

I am from my mama's toes,
as my dad
walked out the back screen door day after day,
its rusted hinge screeching.
A reminder of the torrential rain of argument
falling on my little head

I am from pine trees
of sap and sticky sweet
and the seed ticks. Climbing to the top
checking your neighbor for where they’re hiding later
I am from a southerly wind blowing
the smells of an unkempt garden as flowers grow tall
and strong, while families fall apart like the suffocating weeds next to the roses

I am from the strong arms of 5 different oaks
holding me up like my father was supposed to
the branches of those who tried to fill
the pothole covered road
in my heart, but never could.

I am from my brother’s teachings,
and long walks in a warm rain
always ending too fast.
The sword fights with a long haired bohemian
who stole my heart in a flash of lighting
that I took back with a parrying blow

Smoked filled rooms
as I pretend to be someone else,
and learned of life in a binary universe
trippin on my spear as I fight through life

Forbidden to get dull
Less I lose the fight
My brother’s disappointment; ringing in my ears

I’m from the struggle of believing
in not believing.
My life, proving to be the site of one’s parents,
setting out Christmas
as they realize Santa isn’t real

I’m from a humble beginning
and an arrogant pride
that has given me freedom
to go where those haven’t dreamed

I am from the life I have chosen
to make for myself
I am from Punnet squares
in the back of class
sitting next to a friend

Wanting to know what my kids look like
ff they’ll be as good as I hope
like my mama dreams

I’m from rain on a leaky tin roof
putting me to sleep
making false peace

I am from the water
that rushes through my veins
as I break through the walls
and join in another world, of fish and muddy water

I am from escapes to Neverland
in the moments were I remember
I’m a kid and you’re a kid
and I laugh because I don’t always have to grow up

From my mom’s lemon pie
I hail
like the sugary sweet stickiness
and the ****
pucker you lips boys
lemon.
and the fried chicken

From a stove that hasn’t seen
the fanciest meats
but left us with a five star feast
at my parents hands

I miss when I came from
a smoke filled house
detectors going off
fat back and grilled cheese
burning in the pan.

I like to think
I am from a world
and all I learn
all that made me grow

I am from distinct beginnings
as my life separated
but I have but one
means to an end

I am from a fire place
and screaming wood beetles
as we pressed their backs
but that’s a happier time
that I know I’m from
but can’t remember
I was too young

Now I am from a firepit
Tall
as our conversations
our father singing drunken tales
too beautiful to believe
to fantastical to forget
sparks flying at each crakle
like fairies of fire
cascading in the air

But also from his wrath
the anger
nights spent in a room crying
wishing I could leave
clinging on only because I had yet to learn
I didn’t need him.

So I came from silence
between me and him
longer than forever
louder than the Nazgual
screeching out at us through the TV
a movie my father and I shared, so we could pretend a little longer.

I am from sneaking out a window
not to leave
but return
to when me and you got along
the asphalt
raking out hands
while we climbed to the top
that frightfully tall roof.

the stars leaning in to catching our fall.
the forbidden bottle passed between us.
the world looking like a nicer place
until we crawled back in the doors of reality

From the tear, resting on the edge of these words,
as I recalled your laugh
the real one
the music of it.
cried because I have not yet heard it
someone stole it from your soul.

Maybe freedom can bring it back,
or only further burry it
were the mad men buried it.

I was taught to live
as though not else mattered
the autonomy offering freedom
but still cling to what we had, for however long
our childhood
not as great.
grown up too fast.

Queen Mab holds my origins too
as does Fantasia
and Disney.

Eargon and Sapheria
swords of blue flame
holding my attention
locked away in my mind
as I watched their adventures
and others go by.

A House of Leaves
containing confuzzeld wonderment.
my brother making me challenge
what literary told me was possible
enjoying the complexity
and escape

I am from the Moulin Rouge
the green fairy of absinthe
with same
long haired bohemian
sitting next me, holding my hand

I came from a Secret History
bunny, laying flat in the snow
Dionysus holding the blame
the Greek world with bigger secrets
6 people of a strained friendship

I am from a radio
and an Ipod
the CD player and TV
music being my soul

Ambient, Pop, Grunge
House, Rock, Jazz, Classical
Blue Grass, Country, Electronica
A multitude of noise, dying to a lullaby

Headphones
soft n’ squishy
pressed tight to the drum
drown out the world I beg
they comply
my fingers moving along the click wheel
for a new assault
cilia fibers dying off
you know the world I am from
we shared it often times
and yet you are shut out
the world of 2 sisters
roads walked together.
but I am not from you side of the street.

I am from a dirt road
made long ago
that you will sometimes wonder on to.
but run back
to the smooth and familiar
Pavement.

We were walking on the beach,
Side by side, hand in hand;
The waves crashing around our feet
The setting sun was glistening in his hair
Like he was an angel, or maybe it was just me

I told him I wanted this to never end,
That simple, sweet moment of peace;
He told me not to worry,
We'd be like this forever;
Just me and him, him and me

We were waiting in line for our table
At the fanciest place in town;
The light twinkling up above from the chandelier
Reflected in his brightened eyes,
Like they held the stars, or maybe it was just me

When the waiter asked how many,
He answered quick and simply
A table for two please, just us;
Just me and her, her and me

As we laid in bed
I was wrapped in his arms,
And he was better than any blanket,
So soft and warm, or maybe it was just me

I thought I heard a noise,
Some scary intruder come to ****,
But he told me not to worry,
There was no one there but us,
Just me and him, him and me

One day he got a call,
He owed someone money,
He sounded calm at the time, but I knew better;
He seemed a bit scared, or maybe it was just me

I took a test the next week,
I found out I was pregnant,
We had something to love, to show our devotion;
He promised me to stay and raise our family,
We'd do it together
Just me and him, him and me

The next day he got another call
And his voice sounded shaky
As he hung up the phone,
I told him he seemed scared,
And he said it was just me

They came in a black car
They came with guns
They shot my sweetheart in the head and left
And I sat crying on the doorstep,
My hands on my belly
As it hit me:
Now it was just me

The sun kissed the horizon
The plump Russian babysitters have
Strolled away with their strollers
Long ago.
But I watched her make dinner
On the bark stove she carved into her mind.
She set the table with her fanciest china,
Tonight was a special occasion
I presumed.
She placed a heaping plate of potatoes
On the flower-splattered tablecloth,
Made to match the grass growing
Underneath her feet.
I could almost see the steam rising
From a distance
As she scooped each golden yellow tater
One by one into each dish:
First, second, third.
How sweet,
She’s preparing for our family dinner.
It will be as likely as the willow branches,
Serving as her ceiling,
Will protect her from lightning.
It starts to pour
I start to leave
The horizon has swallowed the sun whole.
I want to run back and tell her
That the willow will not be the only one
Weeping
some day.
The branches will curl onto themselves
And the stove will rust with age
Until it can no longer be used.

I turn
Behind her still thin lenses she peers at me
With twinkling eyes;
Penetrating my already thick ones.
Her head is like a protrusion of the tree.
I want to go back and tell her
To run away with me
Far away from the willow.
But all I can manage is
A heavy yawn
Ready to swallow
The glowing beacon hanging by a thread
In the sky.
How time has flown by
And how I wish,
My little darling,
That my memory of you
Stopped haunting my dreams.

She wanted to tell me
The willow is not as ***** as it seems.
But I’m not meant to make such predictions.
With a regretful tear I turn away
And run up the hill
To what I thought was higher ground.
Maybe one day
She will greet the journey with a smile.

I was wandering as we do,
looking for my life,
leaving what I once had,
long since paid the price.

I was hoping for an answer
to a question I don't dare ask,
I was searching til I found it,
and there I'd end my task.

I came upon a house,
middle of no-where, circus out back,
no-where too important
just a shelter on my track.

My cell phone bars were empty
but local wifi's open wide,
I made my host hungry
for technology by my side.

Sleep came slowly, lately,
within abandoned tiger-pit
beside my convenient compatriots,
safety in numbers not always a fit.

He drove his car right over me
and pinned me to the ground,
took my magic cell phone
to be the fanciest one around.

What he didn't know: I'm a dreamer,
and I always get my due.
I woke, rewound, and slept again,
and had another chance to choose.

I couldn't run, couldn't fight,
so magic was my key,
I drew a bubble around myself,
my droid close beside me.

He drove his car right over me,
my bubble lifted it from the ground,
I, neither injured nor trapped,
he, not winning what he found.

Morning came and rested
I stood and yawned and stretched.
Restful sleep is hard to have,
when journeying far and westward,

but I did and all my things
still journey by my side.
Life is more than just a dream
when you wander far and wide.

you are the best i never had

and i had my share

i have tasted luxurious women
and luxurious wines

driven fanciest cars
and travelled the world three times around

but i never had you,
my dearest grain of coffee

in all my travels
and all my women

i never had something like you

i never had those quirky jokes
those harry potter references

and those hands

oh those hands are the curse of it all
the way they touched mines

the way they grazed their story
alongside mines

without you, my cup isn't full
my coffee is tasteless

and my poems

are faceless.

Do not pity me, for I do not wake in the middle of the night from hunger, as some do…
Nor do I suffer not being able to hold my love, for at least I have arms to hold her.
Though I may not have riches to see a fine play or dine in pleasure,
I can wake to a morning sunrise, and drink of it’s beauty till I am full.
My shoes may not be the fanciest, nor keep my feet dry in the rain,
But they remind me that I do not have to walk bare foot upon the stones.

I once raced along life’s highways, working frenziedly for things of wealth.
I see now as I walk more slowly, that which I had passed by unseen.
For by giving up some of the luxury of life, I have found more time for beauty.
Without  riches, I still have more treasure in simple things once taken for granted.
Castles and fine rugs can only soften my step, they cannot teach me how to walk.

Do not pity me, for life has taught me more than I could teach myself,
In the hardships I have learned to survive, and appreciate simpler things.
When I sit and enjoy the twilight show of a setting sun, I pray for those who cannot see,
I close my eyes and feel the warmth, and listen to the wind as they do, and enjoy it still.
I take a moment to reflect upon what I have enjoyed this day.
And when the morrow comes, I will seek out other of life’s simple treasures.

Do not pity me, for my treasures abound… in life.

I thought you were beautiful,
With eyes that melt me, forest greens and browns,
My thoughts like clouds, don't know where they go, but they go,
And dissapear into magestic sunsets, the colors of blush,
If a mirror saw it's reflection, would it be embarressed,
I've danced with the thought of being here or not,
And she doesn't have the fanciest footwork, this thought,
Or hear the music very well, but she leads,
She leads me so much more than I lead her,
I thought you were beautiful,
It was leaves like those green leaves,
From green to yellow, and down to scarlet red,
My heart forgets to think, as a pianist forgets their place,
And it's melody slows, as your breath breaks the edges,
A sonata, with written letters to oppose it,
I love to travel, from feet to eyes and ears,
Adore, the hills and valleys,
The lips of local songs,
A neck of paradise, wrapped up in anaconda whispers there to stay,
If your smile was a lie, I'd worship treason,
And live for lies,
If goodbyes were hellos, I'd always want you gone,
And if staying means cold and winter winds,
I'll fall, and I'll autumn and I'll never spring to summers heart.

Pain unearned but still deserved
Served up as dessert
By her earthier friends
Laughing at her crying back
As she stumbles blindly home.

Ignorance is a crime
And sweet little puppies die all the time
But what makes them smile for a moment
Places her in confoundment
So sweet and remorseful
She takes her own life.

Bullies on the steps
Bullies on the curb
******* punks on the bus
Unexplained learning curves.

People are animals
Who can do better
If they want and are able
And not just something in the middle.

I wish she'd known me
Before she knew you
I can see you from miles away
She never understood public schools.

She needed an honest education
Never the misfired humiliation
But the streets run with rats
A fact we'll never get past.

Is social equality such an uneven street
That the fanciest of shoes might stumble
And the beasts ferociously feed?

A wake and a vigil
Candles burned for as long as boredom can stand
School bells ring
And it's business as usual.

They said you can't do that with a cat—
The world's not ready for that!
And at first they jeered,
but then they cheered,
'cuz my cat is the fanciest hat.

He’s a refugee of sorts
From society’s glitter gutter.
His nouveau riche attitude
Show in every word he utters.
That is where he’s from.
He’s nothing but glitter litter.
If he doesn’t get what he wants
He’s ******, obnoxious and bitter.

He’s a legendary narcissist.
And prostitutes adore him.
He likes his body to be fat
But keeps his morals slim.

His daddy bought him toys
Of the fanciest richest kind.
Dad didn’t care what it did to him.
He must have been blind.
He ruined the boy with money
Buying his way through college
So that when the boy left there
He had style and little knowledge.

Daddy gave him a nice fortune
To start off his spoiled whelp.
Son was never really good at much
But having a few million helped.
The kid liked glitz and glamour
And especially glittery women.
One after the other he used them
And never really got smitten.

He’s a legendary narcissist.
And prostitutes adore him.
He likes his body to be fat
But keeps his morals slim.

Now a few children later
They have become a bother.
They keep needing things
Like money from their rich father.
He wonders where they got
That sickening greedy habit.
He’s fears if they can get
His gold they'll surely grab it.

He’s a legendary narcissist.
And prostitutes adore him.
He likes his body to be fat
But keeps his morals slim.

Again?

Little bits of paper set little boys and girls awake. Paper is the voice, it is the rush, and it plays against the spirit of the rough. Some had hands in favor, some made famous from their toils. Across the bridges, into harm, extreme liking finds a way to plant their dreams. A courageous haunt for storytellers fashioning fictitious love in the vocals of these pleasure scenes.

A gasp at poison sells us. Two legs is all it took- the fanciest of the 399 lives, stitched across the faces of all his slaves. Some hide behind the moon, in the shadow of its glow. Some depart him, only to remark, and take up the King James Bible in a fight to eradicate some half-lie half-truth tale. Some take up their histories. Some track down their accusers. Some just watch the show.

If ever was a prophet, material or fake. A flip of the light switch rewinds the days, while a new trial of words ghastly fails. If ever was a wind to whip the rocking torments of joy into a smooth flowing dressage of subtle paper cuts and clues, lusts on paper and *****, petite memes cloaked in the vast inertia of the West. Rags piled high as riches, short denim shorts worn publicly before each and every oval and square, curious domain names ******* the brain to forget the old complaints, renege on values once comparable or the same.

Only in this world, today, strangers bed each other and misspell the chants beaten into their acute proclivities for breaking the law, while purposely opening their mouths on soap boxes, and orchestrating the papers’ coolness through the grid and onto the plane. The work of the slaves is the accord to which forewords tune gravity.

This is the paper taking down cities. This is the worship building anarchy in its own members. This is the end of the call and the beginning of the caste. These are the mute and colorless stains on the walls, and the childhood loves of an adult that colorfully decorate the dormitory in his past with the clutter and occupancy that curtails to no complaint. There is the paper and there is the gain. Will any of them ever be human again?

I woke in a confused state
beyond fixing or controlling.
The lazer beams were still fresh off the clock
But the monkeys had full possession.

Clearly, logistics were backwards
And complete world ******* would have to wait
Till tomorrow
or the next day.

I put on my trousers and got right to work
On trying to figure out a way
For every child to eat
Golden sugar puffs in complete unison
for only then could i qualify
for a nobel peace prize.

I said **** the midgets and spiraled into a complete
mental breakdown
for the walls began to scream ****** ******
and the china men were officially on time
and wearing their fanciest suites.

Clearly, I was outnumbered.

So I devised a new plan, on the go
in order to navigate thru the city traffic.
Push came to shove, and eventually
I found myself in a maze filled with clones
of a specific woman named Marlae.

Her face was ugly and full of zits
but none the less
I made love to her left hand
until the sun came up
giving me permission to finally
enter the inside
of her body.

Spinning thru the details
I decided to take a shower
because the conference was in
76 hours and I only had 15 minutes
to get to the conference.

65 days later, I found the keys
to my under appreciated heart,
giving me the mental strength to sleep again

Until next time.

It doesn't matter
If I do drugs
Or go for an hour long run
It doesn't matter if I
Become an alcoholic
Or a camp counselor
It won't matter if I fall asleep
On a sidewalk
Or in the fanciest bed
Doesn't matter
If I take the low road
Or the high road
My past still follows me,
My mistakes are ones
That I cannot escape.

the walls here are thin
because we can't afford
to build them any stronger.

we can't afford to spend money
to test smoke detectors,
or to build new fire escapes.

if this building
goes up in flames,
we have accepted that
we will all burn with it.

we can't afford to
spend money on
our children's safety.

but even if we could,
would it matter?

money can buy teddy bears
and pretty flower bouquets.

money can beautify
our roadside memorials,

but lit candles and
decorated street corners
can't bring back the
children who died there.

every night, I hear the sirens
of an ambulance speeding
through our streets.

sirens are the lullaby
that this city sings to our children,
and to our children's children.

if I didn't hear them
when I close my eyes,
I would be afraid.

because no sirens
does not mean that
there is no crime.

no sirens means only
that no one has come
to clean up the scene.

someone told me once,
that in suburbia,

in the neighborhoods
where the houses are
built with thick walls
and strong foundations,

and the neighbors fight
over who can buy
the fanciest car,

and those fights end
with snarky comments
instead of gunshots,

their children
fall asleep listening
to the sound of crickets
instead of sirens.

in those neighborhoods,
they do not raise their children
to be afraid of drugs
and death and violence.

they raise their children
to be afraid of our children.

our children are buried
six feet beneath the ground,

before their children
even learn the meaning
of the word "death."

Wrapped in a furry coat and a set of winter boots. She hopped across the snow to the warm lodge. Decked out in diamonds that glistened like the ice hanging from the hotel roof. She sparkles and can be just as cold. Not looking forward to a mountain trek, but enjoying fireside chats and a hot toddy. She looks to find who has the fanciest watch and flaunts her voluptuous body. Though she will not be hunted by a Fox, she will wear one if it is in style. She has the cunning of a snow Leopard and the grin of a Cheshire Cat. She never lets her hair get mussed, even under he warm furry hat. Hippy tee hop she goes back across the snow, into and exotic sports car with heated leather seats. So her fluffy little tail will be nice and warm until she needs to hippy tee hop again.

You're passing by the window
Of a fancy clothing store
Eyes popping in surprise
As your jaw drops to the floor
All you've ever dreamed of
All of this and more
More than enough can't believe your luck
As you hit the revolving doors

You've found a pair of Fancy Pants!

You do a happy dance
Cause you know this is your chance
To fulfill the dreams you've dreamed of
As a gullible young  lad
You have the widest grin
You have ever imagined
As you slide one leg then the other
Stop the presses this is it

Hello Mr. Fancy Pants!

These being the fanciest pants
Anyone has ever seen
People stop and stare
With eyes that can't believe
Flashing pink and blue and yellow
Orange, red, and green
Not skipping a single solitary beat
Strolling confidently down the street

Look out world it's Mr. Fancy Pants!

Some people have minor dreams
Of being kings or queens
Others wish their names
To go down in history
Struggle all their lives
To perform some awesome feat
But as for you
You're just happy

Being Mr. Fancy Pants!

Me, I'm loveless
Chasing empty dream after dream
Holding on for so long
To something that's already gone downstream

You, you're loveless
For reasons I cannot fathom
Though I sense love seems to you
Like a bottomless chasm

Somewhere in this struggle,
love found you and me
When we need it most, love never lets us down

My heart, breaking into music
and my senses drifting away,
I fell for you.

It seemed like a heavy moment
You and me, cooped up
In the interval between one waning second and another..
Such a miniscule, yet such beauty

I swear I saw it in your faltering eyes
In the seconds you lingered near me
The throes of solitude
The longing to come close

I swear I heard it in the strain of your voice
You feeling that you had no choice

Why do you hide behind a veil of disdain
when your heart tells a different story?

Will we always remain two soundless hearts in love?

I have waited so long
To clasp your hand and take you far

I have longed night and day
To breathe in your scent and never let you go

Trust me, the daylight will never fade
And I will never leave your side
I know love's hard, but let's do this right
In our fanciest fantasies, let's reside

So my love, there goes it
A tiny piece of my heart, I place before you
Hoping that it renders my love true
Broken and bleeding, yet beating for you..

Once upon a time
In the fairest land
Of New Jersey
At a royal wedding
The now royal niece met
The hired photo booth runner
And his name was Nick
Now Nick did not know what was occurring
He thought she loved cameras
She went with her sister and grandmother
Then just her grandmother
Then only her sister
He friend would contact her
On the fanciest slide phone
And to avoid looking rude
She'd stand next to the table
Right near the booth
Finally with her brother
She talked and he talked
They laughed and joked
About how she should get him fired
For interacting with clients
As it was forbidden
He claimed he would travel
Across the country
To the kingdom
Of Washington
For her wedding in a year or so
She chuckled covertly
Revealing her age
Only to find he was twenty
He thought it was funny
And called her cute
So she gave her phone number away
When really she should've have gone
With her Instagram name
Near the end of the event
She invited him to the dance floor
For the most regal song of all
"Don't Stop Believing"
After those five minutes she assisted him
In the packing of his equipment
And they parted ways
Never to speak again
Both leaving
Dumbly happy
The End

How dared I be happy
And not awake to a miserable state of mind,
Just like yours?
Why fight for the best of the best
When you can have all toe, sorrow on the fanciest plate served...
Why wish for better days
When we know that suffering can make us so great...!
And wonderful...
Wonderfully hateful, resentful, pitiful... Rad!
How dared I try reach happiness?
To your face: a great scam!
How dared I reach to that perfect state of mind called happiness?
I must Have been out of me mind?
Being all close to knowing the best days in life?
Oh, the horror!
Why, if I can have all your sorrow... and more added to the core?

Today we mourn the death of a clown. We adorn our fanciest makeup and brightest wigs.
Our bowties spin and our rubber noses squeak, and the horns’ honks are very loud.

From our tiny cars, we tumble and slip and dance and fall over our floppy shoes.
We glide on banana peels and crash into whip-laden coconut cream pies.

We wrestle to our seats. Pushing, shoving, eye-poking, seltzer spraying.
Loud farts echo as whoopee cushions compress beneath our butts.

The priest takes the alter, but a bull charges and chases him away.
Replaced with a mime, the service finally begins.

Pulling and pulling and pulling and pulling
Handkerchiefs from our sleeves

We wipe each other’s tears
And flip over the casket

So we can say
Goodbye.

Get all dressed up and go to their front door and and wait for a good solid 30 minutes then go back home
* Buy movie tickets for two and go/watch it alone
* Reserve yourself table a month prior valentines’ day on the fanciest restaurant in town, and don’t go. Stood yourself up
* Get drunk on upbeat music with depressed lyrics so you justify your weird crying while dancing
* Play their favorite song and sing it in the shower loud enough it feels like they sings it back to you in reverse and then louder enough til it’s like they’re singing it with/to you then halfway through turn it off mid sentence
* don’t correct yourself when mistaking a their first name for another while flirting, let the cringe and discomfort settle in, rent free, let it have a seat, let it invites itself to your dinner and eat your full set course meal, sleeps in your own bed, sends you wandering homeless.
* Keep reading their horoscope.
* Wear their colone before you go to bed
* Name your first child by their first name