Archive for category Poetry

Drinking Philosophical

Drinking Philosophical

I’m drinking beer and waxing philosophical
while I look across another empty dinner table
and stare out the window
at an empty spot in the driveway.
I’m sitting here drinking
watching MASH reruns on the TV
wondering where she went
and if she’s coming back.
The letter on the fridge bets on “No”
but the seventh beer says “Maybe”
and the ninth says “Yes”
so I keep right on drinking
all the way to “Of course.”
I fall asleep in my chair again
while the cat stares disapprovingly
from the top of the TV set
and the dog drinks beer from his water dish
and eats microwave popcorn
from a half-melted Tupperware bowl on the floor.

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Moonlight

Moonlight

You wrap the night around me like a blanket
and we fall in love again
while the honeysuckle blooms
explode in my nose.
The rushing water in the distance
beats out a rhythm disjointed
from your even-uneven panting.
I can hear the sweat falling from your lips
when you kiss me
your hair falling over my face like a curtain
hiding us from prying lightning-bug eyes.
The grass beneath my back smells sweet as we
crush it into verdant Rorshach patterns
while we dance conjoined under the light
of a new moon and a hundred thousand stars.

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Pecan Pie

Pecan Pie

Sitting at a bare table
In a sunny kitchen
While the weather contradicts everything.
I’m crying in my pecan pie
While I taste you in every bite
As the blue-haired women murmur appropriate nothings
In the parlor
And run their slightly disapproving white-gloved fingertips
Along the tops of the picture frames on the mantel.
All I want to do is scream
But all I do is sit there smelling your cooking
While I eat the last pie you baked for me.
I can almost hear the shuffle of your bedroom slippers
On the cracked linoleum,
Almost taste your pork chops and gravy
While I try to be nice
And not notice them
eyeballing your grandaddy’s clock on the mantel.

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Gingham

Little girl standing by the railroad tracks
brown pigtails sticking out akimbo from her head
blue gingham dress
checked
with an apron that started life as white
before it went through three cousins
and one older sister.
Little girl standing all alone,
looking down the track and
wondering
When’s Daddy comin’ home?

Little girl sitting on the porch
gingham dress too short and threadbare,
knobby knees poking out
the first beginnings of bumps under her apron
just starting to swell and show.
still enough of a little girl to sit cross-legged on the porch swing
waiting for big sister to come home
off her date with the Swain boy
who drives the fast car and smells like whiskey,
looks at her behind while she walks up the steps
telling little girl to go to bed
“you wouldn’t act like this if Daddy was here.”

Little girl walking across a stage,
flat cap on her head
hot June afternoon in a blue gown
grabs that piece of paper and
Looks
up in the stands
where sits a proud mama
big sister and her baby girl
and that Swain boy
who made a decent husband after all
but still a Daddy-shaped hole
in the air next to Mama.

Little girl sits on a porch
in a black dress
as aunts and uncles
and more cousins than you can shake a stick at
sit in the living room swapping memories and telling lies
knees drawn up cross-legged under her on the porch swing
again
sweet tea glass sweats untouched on the porch rail
with a slice of lemon on the rim
drawing flies
as she looks down the driveway
until at last an old man
looking uncomfortable in a shiny new suit
and never broken in shoes
limps past the rusted mailbox into view.
He stops at the gate,
takes off his hat,
looks at the little girl
and she looks back.
He nods,
she waves a shy little girl wave with half her hand
like she was six instead of twenty-six
and goes back inside the house
leaving the old man
at the end of the driveway
watching the tea glass sweat in the August dusk.

Crying in the Rain

The funny things about crying in the rain
is that you can’t tell which is which.
I’m sitting on the porch
under an overflowing gutter
with a clogged downspout
as a sheet of water pours over me,
late-summer thunderstorm washing away
the mourning.

A miserable yellow dogs trots down the sidewalk
giving me an incredulous look and shake of the head.
I hear the intermittent chirp of a baffled bluejay
interspersed with the splatter, splatter of raindrops on asphalt,
the occasional sound of patent leather through mud puddles
tells me the story of comings
and goings
from the house behind me.

I hate the rain,
but I hate being in there more
dodging platitudes and platters of sandwich meat
and if I see one more goddamn broccoli casserole
I think I’m gonna shoot somebody.

Rainbow

Rainbow
After the lightning stopped
and the wind died down
I crawled out from under my hastily erected shelter
and picked up the pieces of my life
that your storm scattered across the world
for all my neighbors to see.
I walked around picking up broken feelings
and shattered memories,
mementoes from vacations that I thought meant something
at the time.
I took the soggy pictures of you and me with Goofy
at Disneyworld
and I put them in a box
along with the mix tape I made you for your trip
(I thought it was a little cold to give that back to me)
and the sweatshirt that was really mine
but you liked it so much I thought of it as yours
and I packed it all away in my memory
and tried to forget the storms of you,
but the rainbow wouldn’t let me.

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Dumped

How did we get from
Eating Star Crunches
Naked in my bedroom
With your nipples playing peekaboo behind your curls
While I lean against the wall wondering how lucky I am
To me curled up in the fucking pantry
Listening to the beep-beep-beeeep-beeeeeep
Of the disconnect signal from your best
Fucking
Friend calling me to tell me that maybe buying that
Ring
Wouldn’t be such a good idea after all.

How did we get from me helping you change a tire after Western Civ class
In the rain
On an MG
When neither damn one of us had ever changed a tire before
To sitting up til four in the morning in the amphitheatre
Falling stupid in love
And talking about soulmates?

How did we get from that kind of tight
To this kind of broken?
How do you put something back together
If you’re not sure anymore that it was ever
Really
A thing at all?

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