Objectification
for the dirty birds
Flying
vermin with only one thing on their tiny, pornographic minds
Feeding
the pigeons only welcomes more loneliness and Brady Bunch hysteria
Lasting
impressions last only as long as the bubblegum sticks
I’ve
been timid since first school pictures when my mother told me not to smile
Nothing
feels quite right after a parent gives you the stink eye
Clamoring
for some goodness that has no aftertaste and revitalizes my broken mirror
psyche
Poetry
a last ditch effort to go the distance before the distance destroys my
uninhabitable dreams
Wish
we were in junior high together and you said yes to going to the junior prom
with me
I
am dog paddling past the obituaries mocking me like Catskills’ comedians hell-bent
on one last hysterical romp
You
swam passed me when the tide was reneging its promises because the moon had
closed down for unnecessary repairs
The
way you looked in your swimsuit made me wish I’d continued going to the gym
Beside
you where all the cool kids hang out during lunch because the cafeteria is resplendent
with replicates of suburbia and urban decay
High
school such an uncomfortable period in my grammatical adolescence of exclamation
marks and semi colons
Rarely
felt at ease in my own skin when the bugle started blowing and the four winds
demanded I capitulate and give up my milk money and unregulated self esteem
We
stand together on an island of Lilliputians because Swift knew just how to get
to the heart of the matter when the tiny eggs are rotten and satire is the very
last character trait you have to barter with
Desire
to spy your ink when we’re standing in line at the Pearly Gates and Peter is on
an unholy smoke break
You
make me a better person by doing nothing more than being yourself in these clamorous
times of dog whistles blown and horses downtrodden
Charles Cicirella
11/12/18
No comments:
Post a Comment