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Karma
He’s really good at baseball.
With three swings he took out my knee caps,
one more dislocated my left shoulder,
and two smashes for each hand
cracked my fingers like peanuts.
He sang “Take me out to the ballgame”
as he hijacked my chest,
making sure to crush each rib
with it’s own intensive blow.
He started to get bored but just for kicks
he thought he’d get inside my head
for one last time,
and with a single swing
my brain flew twenty feet in front of me.
I could see the square root of 244,
John Milton’s Paradise Lost,
and my mom baking cookies on Christmas Eve.
On the way out the door
his cleat slipped in the splatter of brain
and like a fallen angel
he crashed to the ground.
I still had my mouth so I laughed
“Ha! Karma.”
The Kiss
You always used to call me your wife.
Cramping my style at parties
became a hobby for you,
but I never complained
because ever since that incident on the school bus
on a rainy Wednesday in September of 1991
you had been my best friend.
It took eight years for us to kiss
and eight seconds for me to regret it,
because that would mean I had loved you
my entire life
and everyone knows lying is a sin.
So I was glad when I opened the invitation
and balanced the picture of my replacement
between unsteady fingertips.
She looked so familiar,
my own mirror image
with soft brown hair and dark eyes.
It’s about time you found yourself a new wife.
Robert Frost
The iridescent light
shooting out like seashells from the sky
reflected off the tops of our heads
as we danced below.
The path came easy,
promiscuously laying itself out before us.
No birds were chirping,
no flowers had reached full bloom,
nothing was perfect
except for the way he made me feel.
As we saw our path diverge in two,
my heart fell from my chest
and landed on my foot.
But he just smiled,
kissed me on the forehead like he always does
and began his journey
alone.
Old Boyfriends
Ryan Jensen… He wasn’t ready for a commitment quite yet.
Zac Shelton… He also fell in love with Mary Jane.
Sean Christian… I realized I loved him when the wedding
invitation came in the mail.
Ryan Langone…I only remember him because my friends refuse
to let me forget.
Ben Lions… Julie was a lot prettier and 20 pounds lighter
than I was.
Jonny Solomon… also looking for the perfect guy.
But who wants something that will actually work out?
Pamela Anderson
Bleached hair falls over one side of her face
so you can only see one mixed eye,
sometimes green and sometimes blue,
smothered beneath thick layers of blue shadow
like icing on a birthday cake.
A black outlining of the single eye
and a raised eyebrow to top it off
are penciled in with the finesse of a cartoonist’s touch.
The lips with their soft pink perfection cry out
“Please make me eat! I haven’t seen more than broccoli
and string beans for seven days”
and her body shows it.
The white men’s polo shirt
is purposely drenched to be glued to her shape,
showing the hunger pains that seep from her sun-toned skin
down to the plastic nails strapped to her fingertips.
Gold beads fall uncomfortably from her panties,
but not the same kind of panties she wore
when she had her innocence.
Now every move, every look, everything is man-made;
a constant disfiguration.
And the six thousand dollars of silicone,
missed opportunities, fears and regret
poured into her breasts,
leak into her heart.
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