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A (Stupid) Love Poem
-For my beautiful (bossy) girlfriend
Roses are Red
(God this is stupid)
Violets are Blue
(Is that even right?)
Sugar is sweet
(I'm just gonna dump her)
And so are you.
(Well...after tonight.)
Clothes That Wear Me
(Inspired by Maurya
Simon)
My favorite bra is Flamingo pink.
One strap is coming undone
from nights it slept on the floors of strange
apartments.
This bra speaks many languages.
It knows how to sneak out quietly.
It detests hairy backs.
My bra argues with white cotton underwear.
Lately it’s been begging me
to take it back to Vegas.
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Falling in Love
It’s like…
… finding money in your pocket.
… 7 chicken tenders in a 6 piece box.
… a canceled class on a Monday morning.
… no traffic in LA on a Friday evening.
… being bumped to first class.
… getting inheritance money from a lost relative.
… finding out at the register that a purchase is 50% off
… reaching past green shamrocks and yellow moons to find
two prizes in the bottom of the cereal box.
… waking up late to find out that the clocks have been
set back.
… arriving at your gate too late to board, only to find
the flight has been delayed.
… multiple orgasms.
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3 am
Her room filled quickly with his usual cologne of beer
and marijuana.
She opened her sleepy eyes to see him standing over her
bed, breathing heavily into her Winnie the Pooh sheets.
It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing.
As her eyes opened wider, he begged her to follow him
downstairs.
Frightened, she told him no, still halfway between
dreaming and this nightmare.
My little girl, my baby sister, listening to suggestions
from a filthy mouth.
And then it ended just as abruptly as it had started.
She called me as he stumbled out of the room.
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The Funny Funeral
His funeral was funny
like a funeral should be.
Smiling through tears
his friends and family
told stories of getting arrested
for stealing golf carts
at the Stop N’ Shop.
Or stories about how he decided
to make his own sausages
even though he had no idea how.
And when it came to my turn tell stories
about Christmas dinner parties and
dancing around to that crazy Irish band
you always hired, all I had were tears.
So I said nothing.
I listened to his newly wed bride.
She told her own stories
of firsts: first date, first kiss.
She told stories of their wedding day
before the words “brain cancer”
ever hung heavy over their bed.
Before those words turned her dress
from white to black.
But she smiled, pushing tears aside
with the corners of her mouth.
And still I said nothing
because this was a funny funeral
and all I had were tears.
One Year Later
Every morning I pick up the paper from the porch, remove the
sports section, and put it aside for you. It stays there all
day, folded perfectly, until I come home that evening to
throw it away.
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