Saturday, March 26, 2016

The coffee is burning my fucking mouth.

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2016-03-26T15_05_37-07_00

I tried to sip it to no avail.
Had to swallow the allergy tablets and generic Advil before again blowing on the brew and slurping it down.
Sometimes I do everything at the speed of sound. Other times I am as slow as molasses.

I’ll never forget the mint jelly in my grandparent’s fridge.
To the best of my recollection they never served lamb so not sure why it was even there.
Perhaps I am still too young to understand somethings and I’ll never be a grandparent so I’m probably doomed on the mint jelly front.

This poetry may reach you or it might just leave you cold.
I was young and brash and left many people scratching their heads as they headed for the exits.
I screamed “White Jeep” not to shock the audience, but simply because it was the only way I could deal with the anguish I was feeling.

She had big beautiful breasts and the first pair of granny panties I ever set my eyes on.
One time we had sex when she had the flu and later she said she remembered none of it and that I had taken advantage of her.
I remember going to Johnny Go's House O' Music and buying Van’s Avalon Sunset and how when we listened to the record together that almost made things okay again.

As I’ve been writing this poem I take a sip or two of the now perfectly tempered coffee.
It’s four in the morning and after a couple of episodes of Modern Family I’ll lay down on the sleeping bag and get about forty or so welcoming winks.
Oftentimes I’m lost in translation even to myself. Other times I know exactly what I need and how to go about getting it without waking the dead or being rousted by the cops.

Charles Cicirella
3/4/2016

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