"keycard" poems
dead soldiers swing from the tree branches behind my house
and i can hear crevices of ice being formed on the lakefront
as the ice cracks in the agonizing cackle and slow mournful croon of a dying animal or a small child
romance me around the tables and kiss me between the bars
hide all the ******* in the keyholes and don't let me forget this keycard
i told you, officer
she went to get ice for some drinks and when i woke up she wasn't here
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
The invitation comes
in the form of a hotel room keycard
The venue
a back hallway where a half dozen gather
Music
a playlist from Spotify
The high priestess officiates
and the priest in a belly dancer’s outfit
ties a silk ribbon around the happy couple’s hands
a fine pagan tradition
Giggles over his jingling bangles
set the mood
Afterward we go to Rosa’s
still dressed in our finery
(except for the priest
who has found a sweatshirt)
The happy couple share a margarita
while the rest of us dine on tacos and empanadas
In the room we share with the new spouses
I rest with the best of royalty
By midnight
I am asleep on the priestess’ lap
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
when i wake up without my glasses sometimes
i think i'm still in a tent on the side of a highway in queensland
and the sun coming up starts a stopwatch
t-minus 20 minutes until the air heats up like an oven
merrily roasting the blonde figures
on either side of a slightly deflated air mattress.
if i keep my blurry vision fixed i can hear whip birds
and cackling kookaburras and
a vague buzzing i forget as soon as i shift my attention.
i want to push my too-tanned face through the moth-dotted
10-second-tent ***** and gasp wholly unsatisfying gulps
of petrol station breezes.
but when i wake up with my contacts cementing my eyelids shut
i think i'm hungover in a grimy hostel in brisbane
with a different blond figure gripping my hip
and 29 other filthy travelers snoring uproariously in the same room
and every one of them asleep with stories still pressed to their lips
willing to trade for the thrill of it.
and i know i won't be able to find my keycard in the tangled sheets
and anyway, my bunk in my own room doesn't have a ladder
and there's always a german girl sleeping below
with her underwear hanging from the bars i use to clamber up
so i sigh and pass that problem down to future-me
fall back asleep
and when i wake up i have miscalculated
and somehow i'm twelve thousand miles away already
as abrupt as this
but sometimes for a few myopic seconds, my chest feels light.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
California. Land of the In-And-Out, the glitz, the glamour. The noise of traffic to burst the bees out of her hive mind. Okay, so In-And-Out wasn't as good as Biggerton's Burgers. That **** was endorphic, but at least anything was better than nothing.
At least, unlike South Dakota, there didn't seem to be any Llama farms around. She could live with that. It was actually pretty nice in LA. Noisy, hot, next to water. Her pyrite keychain (swiped) dangled from her keys as she turned off the Mustang (swiped, but undeniably hers) and pocketed them. Run-down Motels never went out of season. It would be treason against nature for them to. ****** broken-spring beds and tepid showers, loads better than her backseat though.
It would be easy to take in the habit of throwing trash around her car, she mutters. Half remembering all her garbage dump trips (neighborhood yards and fast food restaurant bathrooms taking the brunt of it). Agent Runaway laughs as she stretches her arms above her head.
There's a base in San Jose. Screaming, electric shocks, experiments. Like her. Just not... successful. With a mad woman on the loose, they've cut back spending. Put it all on her. And what a gamble that was, she hummed. But there were plenty of off-radar, illegal, operating sublets. She'd need one to solder her pretty little mind back together.
Agent Runaway stifled a yawn and clawed her way into her motel room, barely kicking the door shut and collapsing on the bed. In minutes she'd shut down all her sensors, stop listening to the babble of the old woman who'd handed her her keycard at the desk and the squabbling couple next door. She was asleep.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 5:14 AM UTC
They took me from school
They put me in an ambulance
My favorite teacher came with
Next thing I know
I have a hospital wristband on
It has my name printed on it
I have an uncomfortable gown on
Weird socks on with grip on the bottom
Walking the cold hospital halls
Personally escorted
I remember thinking to myself
"I'm officially crazy"
They use their keycard to unlock the doors
I carefully step into a psych ward
It felt so isolated, cold, and sad
They took me to what they called "my room"
Bathroom was locked
Walls were blank
Shelf's were empty
They left my room
It was about 12;00 a.m
There was a bright green clock light in the wall
I turned down the lights
I tried to make my thoughts go to sleep
But it was my soul that was more awake than ever
I just laid there
I asked myself why I was here
Suicide, misery, depression, self-hate
And cuts on my wrist is what came to mind
"Oh" I said to myself with a tear sliding down the side of my face
That's why I'm here
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 9:08 AM UTC
"All who hate me whisper
Together against me;
Against me they
Devise my hurt, saying,....
"Like, is he stupid?"
No Monica
I am not stupid
I am fairly intelligent
Regardless of what you think
Was it the keycards?
I was thinking
I could share one with
My friend
I asked him where he
Would leave it
I wasn't sure where
You had put your
Keycard
I didn't know
If you would be
Needing one
More often
Or where you would
Be going
I didn't know
You would put it
On the counter
I thought you might
Keep it in your pocket
That is why I asked
Where my good friend
Was going to keep
One of the cards
Or, "our keycard"
Your keycard
Can't be relied upon
You never said
You would keep it
On the counter
I didn't know
Where you would
Keep it
Or how often
You would use it
Yes, I understand
Keycards are
Interchangeable
But I didn't know
How often
You would be using yours
That is why
4 people
1 keycard for each
Group of two
I asked him
Where he was keeping ours
Because I didn't know
Where you were placing
The other one
No, I'm not stupid
Should I forgive you?
No, I won't
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
late at night i never can sleep too well
prison bars staring at me through the cell
i tried to make it my momma told me
rise above cause freedom aint really free
in the game escaping this living hell
conjugal visit she can ring my bell
dreaming to be the man that i can be
bread and water my only ecstacy
sure enough i'm a make it out some day
with the keycard they slid into my tray
freedom aint free but i'm a make it mine
debt to society and time to shine
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 6:32 AM UTC