by john | May 31, 2009 | Poetry
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.
by john | May 28, 2009 | Poetry
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.
by john | May 28, 2009 | Poetry
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?
