Tag Archives: rommates

Three Poems from My Day

three quick little things, because I’ve started NaNoWriMo

She said Japanese people are only really reserved with strangers,
Whereas Americans were it all on their sleeves.
And here’s the interesting bit.
She said, American are shallow underneath,
Whereas the Japanese aren’t.
They’re so frank and open.
First, I hate when people praise another culture.
In my experience, it’s all fine and dandy,
But humans are humans.
There’s always a tradeoff.
Also, who says blanket statements like that?
Who can get away with that?
And then who won’t admit to seeing their wrong,
Who won’t take a second to see it from someone else’s point of view.
Admit that their statements might have flaws?
I’ve found this with my roommate too,
Maybe it’s me,
Maybe not many other people like to argue,
Or expand their brain.
They like to be heard, and seen as correct.

Okay we’re going to take a second,
Rather you’re going to take a second right now,
I took the second when I was writing this,
To ask,
When the hell did I become the liberal?
I’m pretty reserved in general,
I’m never the one with the craziest ideas in the room.
What’s going on here?
Am I suddenly too far left?
Am I the edge of the horseshoe who now has more in common with the crazies on the far right?
I’m the one who only sees grays and isn’t sure what solid white or solid black looks like.
Perhaps, today, I am argumentative.

Also, I hate having to report to roommates.
Nosy ass roommates.
Leave me alone.
I don’t want to be around you.
I don’t want your noise.
I don’t want to play with your kids.

Poems from My Day (10-18-16)

Eight poems for now. More later.

I took a drive with her.
We’d never been by ourselves before.
I tell her I’m quiet, that’s nothing wrong,
Which is a lie,
She tells me she wants to know me,
Then plies me with peppermint schnapps.
She tells me about her last week in Anchorage,
Hanging out with the man she had an affair with,
Taking a bump at a strip club,
Looking for that someone who will
Make her better, into the person she thinks she should be.
She tells me about her High School English teacher,
Who wrote her a poem,
Saying she was just waiting to fly.
All I see is a dreamer, with three kids, a small house,
And too much to burn.

Stop competing with me,
My name is listed on the undersides of game boards
With the date we played, and my final score.
I’ve had guys ask for my number.
I’m sorry you’re insecure.
There’s nothing here I’m trying to win.
My father sent me a gift in the mail,
She says she’s jealous.
I say it’s guilt money,
That’s nothing to hope for,
But I don’t think she believes me.
Whatever I have is worth it.

You don’t ask my kids why they weren’t at church on Sunday.
They’re in a safe space here.
School grounds. Dammit.
You don’t pressure them here.
All my instincts said protect.
I hate this weakness. Oh if only I were in a bigger town,
If I was Kanye’s better, faster, stronger,
I’ll never have the guts to stop it when I see it.
I’m going to have to deal with this about myself.

I drive on what’s left.
After the pot holes from sewage projects, rain, and only black gravel.
What’s left behind at the store after the barge comes through, and the rest of the community grabbed the fresh vegetables.
I love what’s left of the people they were.
I sleep on the bed from the woman who lived here before me,
Wearing clothes another dropped off at goodwill.

What can I love of what a monster creates?
Who am I to judge?
Can’t I sing along with a woman?
Admire a painting?
Can’t I read something,
Someone terrible wrote,
And not celebrate them?
Or by not ignoring them,
Am I giving the virus-filled pages ad revenue?

I have trouble dealing with insecure people,
I don’t think it’s because we have so much in common,
I think it’s because they can’t take a joke,
I can’t tease them,
I can’t push them,
And there’s no equality.

I sat on the couch,
My day off,
And ate the shortbread fresh from the oven,
Listened to Jazz at Massey Hall
And read a wallflower romance novel
In my new pair of Xtratufs.
I’d never been so happy with myself, or my life.

I’m having trouble saying I need attention,
I want attention,
I feel like I’m just become nagging,
Like my mother.