"tootsie" poems
I look at you and melt.
This feeling, before never felt.
I taste you with my eyes.
Like ******* Jack you hide the prize.
You are to me like sweets.
The kind you lick, and **** and eat.
A tootsie lolipop.
And in the center- a gumdrop.
When I see you I drool.
Sometimes you make me act the fool.
Your words are honey-dipped,
Remind me of when nectar drips.
Caramel Marshmellow pie,
Your sugar shock, it gets me high.
Your mouth's a chocolate kiss,
Hershey's aint gat nothing on this.
You're sweeter than desert,
The best desert on earth.
The kind that I want all the time,
Until my belly hurts.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 8:41 AM UTC
tootsie pops, pop rocks, rock candy
sweet tarts, smelly farts, war-heads, sour patch kids
reeses pieces, reeses stix, snickers lickers
fudge pile, chocolate smile, peanut butter bile, sugary style
baby ruths, almond joys, soy bean sauce, creamy steam
ill give u a payday, mayday, hay tastes good with parfai
milkyways stay gay to play games with sunrays
icing splicing with knife dicing
makes cakes, cook steaks, rumcakes
****** sprinkles, rip van winkle, diddily dinkle
gummy worms, germs impregnate firm, permed urns
angel food, carrots, pineapple upsideways
fruits, ***** parachutes, scooters, jello shooters
goobers, corn on the cobbers,
veggie wedgies, pepper leppers, squash boxes,
fry foxes, fleet rocks', carrot tops',
dishes of fishes,
witches brew platypus and fat kush
pushy slushies riding skateboards on gary busy
fussy hussies getting blushy about cussies
cereal made of creoles, bread straight from dreads,
rice is nice with spice, yeast is beast,
last but not least, wheat is a treat,
kiwis, shmiwis, dodos on go phones, starfruits,
bartlejuice, grape drank, sushi stinks.
ill eat anything.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
Always there, Justin Tyme. He's a good friend of mine.
This morning I went into the kitchen and yelled "you're toast!" and then I ate it.
A lovely response to a question: "Does a bear **** in the woods?"
I reply, "What about polar bears???"
When people say, "Jesus is holy." Do you think he cringes?
My girlfriend told me that I had scruples. I suddenly became scared and made a doctor’s appointment for an STD check.
What did Ernie say when Bert asked to get ice cream? “Sure Bert.”
I find it interesting when people say,
"It's the quiet ones you have to "worry'' about.
I believe it's the ones who blend in you have to worry about.
"Awkward Silence" ??
What is so awkward about silence???
I believe people are awkward, not silence.
...................................................
I need some bliss so, I'm going to be ignorant.
Along with his three Peeps, Hershey Kisses the Tootsie Roll Midgets.
To display their different mediums of art, the sky is the Gods exhibit and we are the critics.
For the Nondreamers:
You may look down on me as If I appear to have my head in the clouds.
Note to self: When you look up at the sky, I'm looking down on you.
Some say I'm cheesy...may be that I'm just Krafty.
I saw a sign on the freeway that said 'Exercise daily and walk with Jesus.' So I did. Jesus and I walked together laughing and smiling all the way to the lake front, but he kept walking...Then it dawned on me, I forgot my aqua shoes.
"I tend to add a hint of lemon while preparing my sought after traditional Christmas goose." Here's a hint, don't ruin the hint.
Ask a person with a lisp to say thimble and symbol...it sounds the same.
We are all artists who never put ourselves out for display.
Empty thoughts filled with absence.
What's on my mind is nothing, but what's inside is pure bliss.
I'm existing in the nonexistent.
God needs glasses and hearing aids.
Last night she nailed me harder than Jesus! (too soon)??
"I would be more than happy to give you an external hard drive."
"Ah, give or take.'' I'm confused...what do I do??
Good Friday??? Good God! That's terrible. Put me on a cross and I'll tell you how "good" my day is...maybe we should consider revising the name of this holiday?
I'm a conductor who's lost his train of thought.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 9:43 AM UTC
*T'was a month before Christmas and lights needed hanging.
The tree needed trimming, (my headache was banging).
"The stocking were hung on the chimney with care..."
While electrical chords, were strewn everywhere.
I unloaded boxes of tree decorations
And listened to carols from old AM stations.
"When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter...."
I hurried outside to see what was the matter.
Over-reaching the hedges, the ladder gave way.
And then I saw, in the bushes he lay.
After shocking himself with a faulty light socket,
His tootsie roll'd melted, inside of his pocket.
He stumbled and bumbled, untangling the strands
Replacing the burnouts and cutting his hands.
The ordeal was finished. At last! What a feat!
(Then one strand burned out, as we watched from the street.)*
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 10:36 AM UTC
Ashley,
Your blues inspire me, insipid triangles, walking cold, sweating more and wetting the bed your lips the sizes of gods that I married through hidden video cameras, I caught bias in bliss, racism in slow disasters, tornado sirens and just sirens, and justice on the horizon. My eyelids the sizes of your little ******* the party of tomorrow, the starting sounds of scarred and stripped *** sounds. Caught in a drift, my bottom lip stuffed with lift-lust and jolting up and down your porcelain rift. Messed up and round the back to the buttons, the clasp too heavy to drop your ego down, the cold too swift to catch me as I fell. The heavens too burdened to beat me with your god. I just wanted to me smacked in the face with your flaws. Hips the sizes of doorknobs, hurdles that I caught one weekend sipping slow gin with granddad and papa and Tootsie, your evils carnivorous, your mess much more than your message. Your koo-koo voodoo and big bad red frock. Tuesday's made me the man I am today. The Slayer made me the hate I stuffed into my **** jock-strap to puff out my chest and make prisms in kitten litters and furrow the night clauses to match stick the pumped-up bypass of hazmat and heroism, I was won and didn't know it, you were one and now you're all one.
She,
came to me in French class holding straws. I picked swiftly and came, all staled and stiff, lock-jaw and threesomes one moonlit night the fourth of July.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
*" It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews,
Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and
Illuminations from one End of this Continent
to the other from this Time forward forever more.”
John Adams – July 3, 1776.*
Webster Groves - 2016
The Townhall fountain dances
cheerily in the morning sun.
The red-white-blue shirted crowd
rises as one for the colors.
Laughing children scramble for
tootsie rolls and sweet tarts
tossed by a strolling clown.
Philadelphia, July 3, 1776
Carriages sped toward Philadelphia
where resolute patriots
would turn the pages of history
and tell an unsuspecting world
that a new nation had given birth to itself.*
Sousa strains peal from the marching Statesmen,
Girl Scouts guide their well-groomed mounts -
hooves echoing through concrete caverns.
Vintage firetrucks and autos
sound their horns and sirens
as candidates work the crowd, pressing the flesh.
*Each crass insult from the British crown
had tightened the noose on the colonial neck.
The middle ground was soaked with patriot blood
and revolution was the only course left.*
Barbecue clouds drift over Pat and Lee’s farm
Horseshoes spin and clang and frisbees fly.
A pot-luck feast with beans and franks
interrupts the pop and glare of bottle rockets.
*One by one, each patriot quilled the parchment
resolved to endure the costs of liberty -
knowing to the marrow that defeat
would spell certain ******* and death.*
We reach the lakeshore at dusk -
unfolding chairs - spreading out blankets -
strains of Americana drift over the lake.
then a pyro-technic extravaganza
blazes across the summer sky.
*Washingon’s tattered and bloodied men
cornered Cornwallis at Yorktown.
Then surrender - all British claims
to American soil banished to the tomes of history.*
The grand finale pummels the darkened sky
raising cheers and whistles from the crowd
Toddlers collapse in parental arms,
car doors slam, engines ignite
and head-lighted caravans, turn for home,
spiraling off in every compass degree.
“Happy birthday,” America and endless happy returns
"from this time forward forever more!”
Robert Charles Howard
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
Someone was wearing your cologne today
So many memories in one breath --
I exhale and find myself gasping for you again,
Breath after shallow breath until I am hollow with you.
It was light enough for the wind to carry it
but it made me feel like Atlas under the Earth.
It was nothing but empty hopes
wishes left ungranted.
As night falls,
and the darkness comes for me,
I find myself gasping for you
Clutching crumpled Tootsie Pop wrappers
And cradling torn Four Leaf Clovers.
Wishing you are far away
The more distance I can place between us,
The safer you are.
Wishing I was in your arms
Craving your lullaby, your steady heart beat,
For selfish reasons.
Take my Tootsie Pop wrappers and Four Leaf Clovers.
I am the very last person who deserves a wish.
Take them and know I never wanted to hurt you.
Wish for a thread and needle
Or a plane ticket to Neverland
Just please,
Don't wish for me.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
The sun dips over the horizon.
Beginning its' rise.
Alarm 1... Grudgingly greeted
With a fist.
Alarm 2... Mama waking me.
3... Me waking you.
Early morning songbirds whistling their tune.
Gospel dimly transient from the far let room.
Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and grits on the stove.
OJ and milk sits for the kids,
While coffee brews for the adults.
Early morning chatter.
Sounds like shoe laces and belt buckles.
Tooth brushes and hair brushes
Frantic in pace.
Traffic
Back and forth, up and down
While we,
Barely awake.
White Cadillacs, Lincoln's, and Oldsmobiles
With the beige and burgundy rag tops.
Reminds me of Granny's car.
4 in the back
3 in the front.
With room to spare.
Red lights and stop signs.
Peppermints and tootsie rolls.
Meijer.
So we're halfway there.
Slanted park job in the lot.
High heels and Stacy Adams
Clash the cement.
Like soldiers
We march in
Just in time for praise.
Cheerful smiles and warm greetings.
Some real.
Some fake.
We sit.
And now
We pray.
Thank you Lord
For this day.
The sun is up
Such as our faith.
Our health is good
Our love is strong
So thank you Lord
For this lasting bond.
We nap.
We chat.
We clap.
We praise.
We jump.
We shout.
We cry.
We raise
And benedict.
Home for dinner.
*** roast and corn.
Sweet potatoes and greens.
Kids playful in their youth
Adults lively in their jeans.
We sit.
Thank you for this food
We are about to receive
For the nourishment of our bodies
In Jesus' name
We pray.
Amen.
We eat and enjoy each others company
No conversation needed.
Just the sound of good food.
The feeling of love.
The sun
Setting in the window.
It's almost time for rest.
I can't wait until next Sunday.
The weekend might be over
But the love,
The memories
Are the best I've ever had.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 11:06 PM UTC
how do you feel right now?
delicious
delicious like french fries
or a crisp apple?
delicious like me.
but how are you delicious?
delicious like i would take
one million licks
to get to the center of the
tootsie roll pop
oh.
yeah
that makes sense
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 5:49 PM UTC
I'll stain my wrist cherry red,
I'll hang myself with angel hair [1]
I'll jump off a choco cliff
And smell bacon in the air.
Drown myself in sea of grease;
In lard or melted butter
Get lost in a Balck Forest,
Eat fondant rocks for dinner.
Stick Butterfinger down my throat
Until I can no longer breathe
Peel off my caramel skin
And run through a pile of wheat.
I'll fly my way to Sweetzerland
And then I will jump off the plane;
Railroad trip with Willie Wonka
Then get myself crushed by a train.
I'll put the gun on my temples,
Pull the trigger, out the whip cream
Roll on hot coal with Tootsie [2]
Up in the skies you'll see our steam.
I'll grate my fingers just like cheese
And dice my arms like tomatoes;
Chop the onions, hold your tears
Mash my head like potatoes.
I'd stuff myself just like turkey
A big, fat one on Thanksgiving
I'd eat to death ruthlessly
So full that I'll be choking.
Fillet myself, eat my own meat
Or not, 'cause that would be so gross
I'll poison myself instead
A drop on my wine - let's toast!
I'd overdoze on sedatives
Each pill the size of Jellybeans
Or cross the road with closed eyes
Or live in a garbage bin.
Get under attacked by hornets
As I steal their precious honey
Huge marshmallows in my mouth
Die playing Chubby Bunny.
Ride a ship on a raging sea
Of milk or strawberry smoothie
And I'll let my boat be wrecked
Then feed a whale with cookie.
Get free popcorn with your ticket
As you watch me die, sit back
Don't stand 'til it is over,
Enjoy the show and relax.
This is what you always wanted -
See me lying on my coffin
I'll make you watch in total dread
As I **** myself with muffins.
And when I die, donut tell her -
My sweetest darling - Baby Ruth
She might slap you out of shock,
You might lose not just one tooth.
From the grave, I'll send you Kisses
My dear old Cad, bury me [3]
Give this body a Reese's [4]
From food that is it's enemy.
I have here a cake for you
Open your mouth, gently chew,
Close your eyes and hold your breath,
Savor now the taste of death.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
.
****
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Wiener Pecker U
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Member Doink
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hour Chub Pud
******* Wanki
W a n g D ing
a ling Ding Don
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worst Meat Pop
sicle Meat ther
mometer Bolog
ny pony Salami
Sausage Tube
steak ****** P
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dog Magic wan
d Staff Divine R
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Third leg Tonsi
l tickler Power
drill Jack hamm
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kle Bat Club Rod
Pole Joystick Ja
ck-in-the-box S
kin flute D-trai
n Mr . Happy B
a ld - headed yo
gurt slinger Lon
g **** Silver Ji
my Johnson Kn
ob Captain Win
ky One eyed W
illy One eyed M
onster Peter On
e eyed trouser
snake The Sala
mander Horse
**** Lincoln lo
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Lesh trombone
Meat stick Meat
whistle Dobber
Wanger Woody
Shake weight T
iffy Frank and
the beans Ch o
a d t h e dirty
wise man *****
Harry nut cann
on Flesh flute
Satan's clarinet
Sexophone Th e Mayflower ( on
account of all the Puritans who came
on it ) The Wea p o n of A s s
destruction junk mail
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
- W. B. Yeats: The Second Coming
Dachshund
Bred to burrow after badgers,
what's he doing here?
Terrorizing the underwear
behind my couch.
Is he a true hund,
or just a pan-fried sausage
with a Bluto chest?
I wonder what they called him
back then, in the Black Forest,
when dogs were dogs.
Tracker? Hunter?
Try: Baron Von Putt-Putt Tootsie Roll.
I'm Scot myself.
My people once sacked York.
No, this isn't York.
It's Plano, Texas.
Don't think a Dachshund and a Scot
can't sack Dallas from here.
Until then, we play our little game:
What rough ****** slouches toward my underwear?
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
Halloween was always one of my
Favorite nights of the year,
Although the waiting was torturous
As the date drew near.
What to wear? was always the question.
Not rich enough to be trendy,
We put together makeshift costumes,
And Dad would always pretend he
Didn't have enough money
To spend on fancy treats.
"Besides," he said, "my theory
Is basically sweets are sweets."
We didn't have Darth Vader back then;
Kids were pirates and cats,
Skeletons, hobos, cowboys and Indians,
Devils, witches, and bats.
Mummies, scarecrows, fairies, clowns--
Whatever we could devise.
Many kids were simply ghosts
In sheets with holes for eyes.
Ah, the treats: chocolate coins,
Cookies, Milky Ways,
Popcorn ***** candy corn,
Necco Wafers for days,
Abba-Zabas, Tootsie Rolls,
Bubble gum cigars,
Licorice, Candy cigarettes,
And Snickers candy bars.
We got Double Bubble in packs,
Taffy, Cup-O-Gold,
Milk Duds, Jujifruits--
A mountain of treats all told.
The experts had TWO costumes
And made the rounds twice,
As if one giant bag of candy
Was never going to suffice.
Back at home we'd pour out our candy,
And then the bartering started.
Since I had two older brothers,
I was usually outsmarted.
Mom and Dad let us monitor
Our own candy stash,
And we survived the candy feast
Without a sugar crash.
Until I was fourteen years of age,
I'd never had a cavity,
Despite living in Candyland
In utter sugar depravity.
But I can still eat candy now
And not go trick-or-treating,
Though, granted, there are more nutritious
Foods that I should be eating.
- by Bob B
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 1:11 PM UTC
I can't remember the day I fell in love with tootsie rolls and I don't remember how long you stayed until you left home and I definitely don't know how old I was when you gave up on me.
I can remember waking up without you home and you hiding in your room "paying bills", but getting ****** and I remember the nights I spent outside alone, because I knew you had given up on me.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 12:50 PM UTC
Baby you're my candy
my private tootsie roll,
cause I love to drive you crazy
as I tongue your little hole.
Baby you're my *******
so soft and full of cream,
pressed up hard against my lips dear
as my tongue your innards ream.
Baby you're my taffy
with teeth I love to pull,
just to taste your salty tang dear
when my mouth is oh so full.
Baby you're me sucker
don't give me any stick,
just hold it to my lips dear
and then watch this sucker lick.
Baby you're my candy
your sugar and your sweet,
and like this here collection
you're good enough to eat...
out.
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
Tootsie pops and pixie sticks,
I've come to play.
Three hundred forty licks
To the center. Everyday.
Sugar, spice, and everything nice,
Isn't that what they say?
My vitriolic vice,
I can't stay away.
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 8:04 AM UTC
To my dismay my palate has acquired a taste for those who seem to have the heart of a lion. I detect my tenacious affections towards you early. This is daunting for us both. We do not share the same list of apprehensions. I suppose it is your fortitude and influence that sustains my interest so.
I know the heart of a lion is a delicacy that i can not stomach I must have a courageous allure to feel starved. I observe without scrutiny while i wait in line for you.
It wont be long until I will find myself effortlessly making an apology on your behalf.
Your precarious, impregnable ways will be exacerbating. My harmless devotion will alarm you, in turn you will deny my intentions.
I will try and swallow your heart whole in an attempt to feel you. I will expect nothing less than to be left praying to the porcelain god. I would have forgotten about your parsimonious generosity. Your charm is passionate but I will still call you up on your weaknesses in the mighty shape of a lioness. You will feel wounded and indulge in the pleasures of your mothers nectar to soothe your uneasiness . You do what you have to do, do it, do it.
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 2:22 PM UTC
(Can be sung to the tune of the 1922 song "Toot, Toot, Tootsie, Good-bye")
Good-bye, Sarah,° good-bye!
Good-bye, Sarah. Nice try.
The press won't have to fight you.
We hope you learned that lying will come back to bite you.
Maybe, Sarah, you'll see
Most will have to agree:
It can be grim out on a limb
When Donald Trump expects you to keep lying for him.
Good-bye, Sarah. Say why.
Good-bye, Sarah, good-bye!
Good-bye, Sarah, good-bye!
Good-bye, Sarah. Don’t sigh.
No more briefings start the day.
But when you led them, they were useless anyway.
When you're gone will you know
How low you had to go?
Hey, what the hell:
Trump thinks you're swell.
Those "countless FBI agents" will bid you farewell.
Sarah, keep a dry eye.
Good-bye, Sarah, good-bye!
-by Bob B (6-14-19)
°Sarah Huckabee Sanders, press secretary to Donald Trump
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 8:47 AM UTC
Underneath a small lee in the park,
she tapered down so small; sapling pine tree.
Furled a wool blanket like a tootsie roll
used as a pillow and rolled into sleep.
Scene-by-scene dreamed of bedroom encounters
enacted on beds of flowers.
Remembered the words of harmonica blowing boys verbatim
as the dream shifted scene for half an hour.
And a small, four-leafed local sage man came at an importune time
and to write her a note.
Succinctly and politely bargaining with her;
"Would you give up lust for pure reason?"
Turning away briskly, she glanced toward a stump
sat down for a ponderous sixty seconds.
Slowly standing, eyes regal and demanding
she wrote back "no, I won't"
Shiver and shake and she's suddenly awake
power walking to a house near the river.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
Death, I've seen through my mother's shallow breaths
The whisper of sadness moving into my head
That thing pushing and pulling inside my chest is skipping
Jumping and leaping at an irregular pace
The balloon of air is full but I feel asphyxiated by the pain
Numbing legs crawling to my head, every second seems like a century at haste
Death is for those who live, and sip the morning sun
Or for those who walk and feel the wind in their palm
I'm a diabetic walking on a candy store
With you as a tootsie roll
I can look and leer holes through your soul
But I cant taste let my lips drown into your
Wishing a chance to feel your warmth and the sweetness you have wrapped
A different kind of death I feel when you're around
The kind that kills me and bring me to life at the same time
The kind that creates a memory for me to smile to and frail at the same time
Stopping this borderline obsession, there is no chance
You've cut my legs down so I cant run, and hide from your charms
In my blood you slowly dine , leaving me no choice but to wait and die
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
i will never be skull crushed in a white powder prison
im free chicken passed out to the home seeking
because home is just where you put your ****
forget about where my heart is
its been sliced melted and reforged
flames that lick to the center of a tootsie pop
making the blood boil so the candy coating bursts of an inside
less than visually appealing is how i view my skeletal structure
didn't stop it from poking out when i jumped from your window
keep your friends close and enemies at a distance
because regardless the season of life no other purpose not dipped in deviousness
gives rise to rational of keeping the damage in arms reach
its not unlike the scissor strokes dancing a tap show on the wrist
i just never saw a reason to it
then again i can't see life like you do
my eyes get stuck on the things i see beauty in
which is mostly this new girl
sometimes the scenery
then these flashes of a easy time
regardless
my irreverence stems from deep inadequacies
beg the question to forget the answer
and to the east i walk
lets find a way
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
_ _ , _ _ , 2 0 1 9 is a day gone to the ashes of kismet’s pages
the midday zephyrs and wino meditations that ran through streets like rainfall now live in the hippocampus
the bright side’s gone with the dark
the whole day, for what it was, is no longer
and it bugs me out
that through any endless combo of permutations and planetary rotations, the same circumstances that built the ground of yesterday
will never repeat
or will they?
I’ll never know like the licks that reduce a Tootsie Pop to crumbs
I’m not intelligent, I’m dumb
because it took me 27 years to learn the value of 24 hours
to learn that a lotus bloom is something to treasure ten times more than scraps of pure gold
we are the children of nature
what does that make our creations?
Humans birthed a cosmos
of currencies and chambers of computer generated concoctions. . .
are they not descendants of the Mother?
In some abstract way?
Idk, dude, I’m out of it,
if you know me, you know exactly what that means - -
but I digress - -
It’s just that I never got the chance to tell the day how grateful I was to have it
and I now know that wasting time is a luxury modern civilization can enjoy after epochs and eras
this day and age is as far from perfect
as the brain is from perfection,
tech grew faster than the collective consciousness
and we still limit worth and love
to skin and heteronormativity
but at least
for a small sliver of time
things were, in a single moment
.
.
.
pretty good.
Aug 4, 2021
Aug 4, 2021 at 6:48 PM UTC
in the booth of a slightly upscale burger place
my mother brother & i discussed how the idea of religion makes us feel
claustrophobic
how we would much rather be talked with
than talked at
how A.D.D. only exists so that people can pin a problem to their shirt
and how kids are given tootsie pops to pledge to be 'drug free!'
as their parents fill them up with Ritalin
so they can get A's like the other kids.
i glanced to my left and saw a mother, a father & a son
her nails were very painted
and his face was glazed over with judgement
they had nothing to say to each other.
and when they smiled at the waiter it was not with their eyes.
May 20, 2011
May 20, 2011 at 3:27 PM UTC