Bang Bang
As my wet hair slides between my lips
I sit here thinking of you
Trapped behind the keys
Watching patiently the window of change
I want to reach out gently
Hold you like a child
Soothe you with a constant love
But...
Split ends get tangled
Rejection and pride scream metal edge
So I bite the hair
Spit fire and turn away
Maybe I’ll Keep It
my ashtray doubles as an hourglass,
counting down to imagined brilliance.
that is, until it's written. then
it becomes an insidious cliche,
little bastard brain baby I'm stuck with.
so I do what anyone would,
grab a bottle. and start feeding
until this little written idea starts
looking good again. maybe someday,
years from now, some desperate reader
will allow it to penetrate soul and
conceive something more. probably
a little notion of a mutant thought
with an activist heart, gets the heart
from the reader. As long as it sounds
a little like me, all this word splurging
will have meant something, years and years
from now, long after my ash-fueled
clock stops flowing.
HEARTS WERE HIS DOWNFALL
I hate Valentine’s Day!” he screamed in panic as he realized he had made a grievous error. The two flawless Valentine’s Day cards he had meticulously picked out and inscribed with the perfect messages had been accidentally switched and sent in the wrong envelopes. The obsequious one he had meant for his wife thanked her for being there for him and for giving him his children. The other destined for his hot girlfriend with the very long legs was steamy and full of lust. In her Valentine, he had hand written, “My beautiful Anastasia, I can’t wait for tomorrow night when I can kiss you all over and touch all your secret places.”
He raced to the mailbox, legs spinning like a windmill, and witnessed the mail person in her mail truck tearing out of the parking lot with her full load. He followed her, honking his horn like a braying donkey, but she didn’t pull over until she arrived at the post office. He wondered angrily if she was ignoring him. In his haste, he almost ran into the back of her truck as he slammed on his brakes.
“Please,” he begged, “I have to get two cards back before they get mailed. “
“I’d lose my job if I helped you,” she answered haughtily as she carried the knapsack into the post office. He thought about attacking her but didn’t think he could get away with it.
The next day, he desperately begged his boss to get an extra two hours off. “I’m sorry,” said his employer, “you know we have that big meeting today. I can’t spare you.” He now had confirmation that his boss was the bane of his existence.
That afternoon, he raced home hoping that he could arrive before his wife did
but, alas, was met at the door by a furious wife, screaming, “who in the hell is Anastasia?”
Now he is sitting forlornly in a small, poorly furnished apartment with a stack of bills he is unable to pay. He laments the monthly amount that is taken out of his paycheck for child support and also the two years alimony ordered so his ex-wife could retrain in a higher skill. (notwithstanding the fact that she has enough ability and cunning to take most of his money). To make matters even worse, his future pension is cut in half with her getting the other half. And as for Anastasia, she flew the coop. Why would she want to be involved with a man with no future? She had tromped on him and spit him out without fanfare.
Feeling abjectly sorry for himself, he pulled his hair out in chunks, howling, “I’ll never send another Valentine card again. Who came up with that idea anyway?”
All of a sudden, he clutched his chest in agony and yelled, “I’m having a heart attack!” He died thinking of the irony that hearts were his downfall, once again. But no one was there to hear him.