Poems from My Day (9-19-16)

i’m a mess

I’m blasting un-autotuned T-Pain singing about booty and shawtys,
Through my borg-like twenty dollar tiny speaker,
While I’m drying dishes in my kitchen,
And the last of the summer sun is shining through my window.
I’ve got refrigerator rolls with another ten minutes in the oven,
To take to my yoga friend’s house, because she invited us for barbecue.
I am comfortable in my skin,
Braless, wearing Super Bowl XLIV “The Who” baseball long-sleeve shirt I wear to paint,
Sleeves I’ve rolled up so often the cuffs are loose fresh out of the dryer,
And my Levi’s boyfriend jeans with two patches on the inside-thigh seem,
Shabby clothes, bad dancing, for the me no one else will see.

I’ve been imagining what I’d say when at her funeral,
If she kills herself like I think she will.
I’ll say she was my friend.
She pushed me,
When I was working in marketing,
She asked me what I was doing with my brain.
There’s not many people in your life who will understand you,
Or care about you enough to call you out,
Tell you you’re wrong.
She was stronger and smarter than me.
She left her home to be better, do better, learn more.
She was funny.
She would go with me on strange twisting battles of subjects
Ranging from why we should stop for traffic lights
To why no person can be really good.
She wouldn’t mock me, unless I deserved it.
She was wispy, and wiry, and full of energy.
The first person I ever met, unafraid to be herself.
I feel honored she might call me her friend.

Be as smart as you like,
Back up your theories with page cited references,
Names I’ve never heard before.
But if you still can’t figure out how to be kind,
How to checkout at the store without doing it wrong,
What use are you?

I’m new to this feeling,
Of knowing you’re being ridiculous,
Knowing your emotions are irrational, but
Having them anyway, and not being able to stop them.
It’s new to me,
I get the feeling,
I’ll get accustomed quickly.

I was lying in bed watching some shitty movie on Netflix about love and quilts.
And I was feeling like a voice-over.
Thinking about telling my computer screen how much I miss the sound of bugs at night in summer.
How my skin feels after I’ve been sweating and then it cools down.
I miss porches painted white

I’m trying so hard not to think about him.
Because I don’t like him,
But I want him to like me.
But I don’t want to care,
I think I’m lying to myself,
I just can’t figure out where.

I made thin chocolate chip cookies
For the funeral this week.
I made a bundt cake for the one last week.
I don’t want to be here,
I don’t want to be here.

6 thoughts on “Poems from My Day (9-19-16)

    1. talesbytink

      Yes, I agree. ‘There’s something happening here… what it is ain’t exactly clear…’
      I lived in a place for 16 months that challenged the fuck out of everything I am. It sucked. I hated it and I hated me, who I observed, and wrote into a diary, as I hated everything. I was shocked by the person I saw coming out on the page. But I couldn’t deny her or stop her. It was hard, and on days when I thought things were going well, suddenly shit turned randomly bad or just fell flat. It was really hard. Different experiences to yours, but a similar effect on my person. Ultimately, having faced all of that… well, you’ll see. Keep going. Something really good is happening to you and it IS apparent in your writing too. Your focus is changing, your words are more concise, stronger, just more, even though you yourself feel enfeebled.

      By the way, that woman you describe in no. 1 – I really like her.

        1. talesbytink

          I’m glad I can help in some way. I just feel for you, can feel how hard you are trying to work it all out and take responsibility for yourself in it all and it’s just such a great thing, a hard thing, and the world needs it, and obviously you need it… I’m cheering for you from down under. I have no idea who you are, but from one poet/writer and fellow traveller to another, you rock.


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