Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Gourmand Tuesday

This is for everybody,
bothered by the noise, the crunching,
the chewing, the back beats
of an out of control jukebox.

This is for everyone, the missed
opportunities and the taken
opportunities that maybe didn’t
work out because you misheard.

This is for everybody, everybody’s
everything. The drums of The Clash,
the silverware dump by the busser,
timed just right to miss the punch line.

The punch line of that long story your
friend was telling over dinner and you have to lean
over everyone who heard and shout above
their laughter, “What?” As you cheeks redden.

This is for everybody, that missed the
boat, missed the moment, missed the
chance, missed it. That “it”. The all
important, “IT”.

Everybody, you didn’t miss this.
Here it is for you. Here’s what it
reads, here’s what it meant,
and now you know.

Everybody’s everyone.
Is there.
You just didn’t know it,
because of the noises.

Or it was Fat Tuesday, in New Orleans,
and you’ve been drinking all day,
you’re half naked in the street wearing
a jester’s hat, drowning in colored beads. 

Maybe that.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Free Lunch

Try the sandwich, Sir,
Try the sandwich, Miss.
There’s no charge
you see, for either,
you see.

Certainly it’s disease free,
nothing wrong with our
free sandwiches at all,
we only ask,
that you sit here for a bit.

Nothing shady or wrong,
we believe,
just a wee respite,
with a free sandwich,
while you watch this amazing
video, of our CEO, eating a
Isn’t the sandwich sexy?

Try the sandwich won’t you?
It’s free; with only a side of
misogyny, bigotry or alien

Yes, that is home made mayo,
right here in the shop.
No, it’s not gluten free, but
taste the difference, compared to
some other philosophies.

Try the free sandwiches,
They’re free…

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Alternative Fact Valentine's Day

Alternative Fact Valentine’s Day,
which I came up with all by
myself, without any assistance
from anyone, not even my mother.

Valentine’s Day started when Jesus
told the Apostles to dig up heart
shaped rocks on the beach and
throw them at the women they

It’s also the day that Dr. Jonas Salk
discovered the cure for polio
when he cut his finger on a paper
heart valentine he was making
for a fellow scientist that was,
in his words, “totes sexual chocolate.”

I cannot count the number of lovers I’ve
had on the hands of Vishnu. Who all
constantly call me and beg for my
love and sweet kisses and amazing
Valentine’s Day presents.

In Alternative fact, I’ve never, ever
disappointed a lover on Valentine’s Day
or found myself at a bar at three in the
morning wondering about why I’m
so repellent to the ladies. Nope,
never happened to me.

So enjoy your Valentine’s as much
as I have always enjoyed mine and may
your loves be as extraordinary as I am
in bed.

Happy Valentine’s Day! 

Monday, February 13, 2017

Aw Shit, it's Valentine's Day

Aw shit, it’s St. Valentine’s Day
time again. 

I remember there was a period
when all I seemed to  write about
was how I longed for love with overwrought
sentimentality, dripping with the
flowery language of “romance”.

Now, all I can think is,
“Aw Shit, it’s Valentine’s Day…”

I don’t hate romance, or love poetry.
I don’t begrudge anyone their romantic
I’m a big fan of love and romance,
but I’m getting more used to the idea that
I’ll be one of those that just goes without.

Sure, I’m loved in platonic and family ways,
I love others in the same vein. We don’t
send Valentine’s to each other or make
romantic showings.  It’s a Hallmark holiday
without anything real for those relationships.

There’s no need for weeping sentiment
or rosy worded greeting cards covered in
silver glitter around felt hearts. That’s something
couples do, or married folks, or maybe schoolboys
send to their crushes.

I’ll watch TV at home on Valentine’s Day,
I’ll do my normal things.  Normal stuff like pining for
love with that special woman that sparks
my heart into action, eat a microwave dinner,
look out the window, go to bed.

So Aw Shit…,
shit, shit, shit.
Another Valentine’s Day without
that special wink, nod, smile, hand holding,
hair flip, kiss, or otherwise intimate gyration.


Wednesday, February 8, 2017

What's in That Cup?

As I sip my coffee and
marvel at the French Vanilla
goodness of it, I wonder about
the processed chemical components
of it and whether it’s bad for me,
but it’s so delicious in my steamy cup.

Do I care?
Do I care that it might be unhealthy?
That it might be made with bug legs or
cow eyes or monkey pubes?
Do I care that it might not be good for
my liver or heart?

I don’t.
I don’t care.
It’s good and I want it.
Every single morning I want it.
I miss it on the days I don’t have coffee.

I take another sip, even after writing the
phrase, “monkey pubes”.
Ahh, satisfying.
The right amount to pick me
up and get me going, to focus on my job,
my poem, my life.  

Is it metaphorical?
Are we all willing to swallow a little unknown
to sate our overwhelming desires for
some fleeting satisfaction?
Are we conditioned to eat and drink from
the table of chemistry without complaint?

Another warm sip, my coffee is cooling now,
it almost tastes better when it’s not piping hot,
its rich and lightly creamy, full of sugar and optimistic
potential. I can get that project done. I can get these
tasks completed, thanks to the coffee and French Vanilla
flavors, and maybe monkey pubes.