Wednesday, July 6, 2016

It's like this.

I just wrote and posted a poem. Deleted it.
Here's this instead because this is where I'm living.
Last night in bed I told my man,"I'll never write about this."
And he dismissed that because he knows me.
"Yeah you will. You're a writer."
And I said,"With other men I'd have written twenty poems by now."
It's been three weeks.
A lifetime.
"I guess bad sex is more inspiring than good lovemaking."
(I said.)
I'm adept at recording the hell and horror of my life.
This is something else entirely.
There isn't anything subversive or ironic
about true love.

3 comments:

  1. you will find other avenues if not realize fresh subversions and ironies. i also think...
    is it not the case that love is always true, and your ability to intuit this of truth in others indiscriminately is acknowledgement of this- which has humbled you? i say this because i observe this in myself. i still love all the assholes i've slept with or merely looked at and daydreamed about for the following days because finding the love in another is a discovery of truth, which never leaves us in spite of impermanence. i also think adversaries such as assholes who've fucked us over are amazing teachers, little minions of ganesha. it's difficult to discern when we're lonely, i think.
    congratulations on fuckerbutt. i can't wait to get raped (OMG).

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  2. I know what you mean. Finding any kind of love at all in the dung pile that is 2016 America is quite miraculous. I don't regret the ill fated flings and less than stellar relationships. But when you really get it right with someone...when you put a quarter in the slot and DING DING DING...three sevens or three cherries in a row...the words "true love" take on a whole new meaning and you find yourself reduced to that Air Supply video. "Even The Nights Are Better." I'm at the carnival. I'm candy apple sticky on top of the Ferris wheel. Wheeeeee.

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    Replies
    1. you've always been candy apple sticky on top of a ferris wheel : )

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