poesy i
Nothing important
has ever happened
here,
so
don’t ever write anything
you don’t want made public.
We sat there and played Yahtzee
and made it a drinking game.
I waited for the worst
to happen to the guy
over the intercom,
who might be a robot.
Nothing’ll ruin you faster
than typos and poor grammar.
I’ll have to explain to God what’s happened with
all the horrible things we’ve done.
Mirrors covered with old bed sheets.
All the wounds she had inflicted
were scabbing over and yet
still, there was always something
needing to be kept at bay.
People are not boomerangs,
in case you were wondering.
The angel argues that the concept as a whole
is completely lost upon the living.
I was meant to be
mediocre
even if
you thought it to be some kind
of gelatinous snack.
So, Heaven is a lot like what prison
is like, or perhaps, more appropriately, what
high school is like.
Structured and scheduled.
There’s pattern.
Routine.
I get a large straight.
We’re just chimps in suits,
inappropriate and
out of place,
while you say “crazy,”
like it’s a bad thing
she’s rolling four-of-a-kind with sixes.
I waited and maybe
you’ll have time now
to think about why clothing was invented.
If you ignore the downsides, you are the downside.
Nothing needs metal to live
but us,
as the slide changes to bolded dollar-signs dancing.
Of course, this is why some parents
eat their young.
And if you will just slowly count from one to seven,
it’ll age you.