Friday, November 12, 2010

I don't know I wasn't sure

But, there are always the things.
I asked Frank about being uncertain, how
does someone ever know, what to
think or even how to know which means
you had to
know how to do something
in the first place, right
(and how do you, ever).
He doesn't mention anything about how none of that really makes sense,
but talks about how a mailbox is really just a mailbox, and tomorrow
it will still be just a mailbox, and scratches his chin.

I’m already turning the whole thing into some metaphorical bullshit
the kind I'm learning to keep to myself. Also, fuck. What's that word again,
some other word for conversation that I
can’t think of right now.

I guess that lady with the cart who collects all of the cans in the city,
that's funny, because it's the only way either of us know how to survive.
Or that toad of a man who runs the dry cleaner
just around the corner, he forgot how to smile or maybe, he can't help it because
toads probably don't smile. Either way, his afternoon chocolate chip cookie,
I sometimes depend on that.

Of course, then there’s Frank,

and there’s Frank’s mailbox,
and the fact that Frank is sure of that mailbox,
which means there are always the things.

that’s something, right

no rest for the wicked sad

That coffee roll you like but more importantly, how you
have to pick off all of the toppings before you can eat it and how I never
knew how to tell you about how much I like the way
you are about food. And I guess
I've always hated that boys can be hairy, but there is
your chest hair and then, there are hairy boys and you
are two different planets. There is also
all three of your phone alarms, all three
I hated that out loud so of course, now here I am
missing them like that time we made so many mashed potatoes
that we fell asleep,
or how you left your clothes in
the kind of piles around my room that made me think
the only reasonable explanation was that you were abducted by aliens.
Or how you always fixed the bottom sheet when it came off
because you are good at silently
understanding things
such as how an exposed mattress can make me nervous.

Things, things to think about pretty much never
except when I get up to get a drink of water and wonder
if I should get one for you
but you’re never home anymore,

but really I am just worried because

who takes your glasses off when you fall asleep with them on and
who makes sure the blanket doesn't come off of you
and who are we supposed to be now?

Thursday, November 11, 2010

quality mart

a brief conversation about important things
somewhere else, you could take a sip of wine or even just blink
and forget which things to pay attention to,
wind up missing all of the most obvious ones
just because your stomach kind of hurts, and your hair
looks bad today and before you left for work you didn't even think
about deodorant. And somewhere two people are for just a second
using credit cards and alcohol in an exchange of more than
just money and some peace of mind. She says some bullshit
we learned in the 90's and he hears something he didn't know existed,
ways of living invisible to each other but on the off day when they
are forced into acknowledgment because of something like
a long traffic light or sitting in the waiting room for so long
that you feel like everyone's friend, a brief conversation
about something important shortens the longest day into something
to maybe write about.