after dinner,
I think that maybe
the first time I saw a perfectionist
was when my stepdad
pulled fast at plastic wrap,
until no creases showed
above a bowl of diced tomatoes.
Now I wonder
what kind of life I have been storing,
tugging this way and that
without stopping?
I am not a bowl of diced tomatoes,
but still, I need
to free myself of this suffocation,
this self-applied plastic.
Otherwise, I’ll sit
and keep forever,
too perfect to live.
Category Archives: Poetry
The point of a cupcake.
I didn’t think about it
until I reached for one,
sitting in the package,
chocolate frosting impossible to miss.
Tasty goop on my fingers,
I go for a bite
and manage to goopify
my mouth.
I’ve made a mess,
and it was sort of fun –
that is
the point of a cupcake.
They call them weeds,
the dandelions, I mean.
I don’t remember
the first time someone told me
that dandelions aren’t as messed up
as some other weeds,
that they’re actually not
messed up at all,
but I’ll try to keep
that knowledge ready
for the next time.
Flip Floppin’
The snow
makes the drive to work too much
then the sun
makes the day too nice for toil.
Is it in the stars?
I’ve been flopping around.
Clearly, I need a Scorpio:
tender, but with a stinger,
just in case.
Really, I just want my star stuff
to merge with other star stuff.
Maybe It’s Better Not to Participate
“Please kill me”
I whisper to God,
or whoever,
as I swipe through
countless profiles
on a dating app,
with no matches in sight;
love has been commodified,
and parsed,
again and again,
and I’m just not
selling myself.
I translated
the dog’s whine,
and it came out
to something like
“I’m sad, I’m the
saddest dog in the world,
how come that other dog
gets to go on a walk?”
It must be awful,
the truncation of time,
the compression of want.
The dog wants
all moments to be outside,
so the indoors
become all about waiting.
I don’t think
I regret this,
I say as I pour myself
my fourth cup of coffee,
at 8 PM,
I stay up late
most nights anyway.
Slow down,
my beating heart.
Capitalism Deserves No Trains
A train derails,
but it doesn’t just do that.
A train is derailed,
no, not quite.
A train is neglected
but by whom?
A company neglects a train.
Shareholders prioritize profit over safety.
The president halts a rail strike.
The president prioritizes business over safety
(not realizing that safety leads to better business)
((actually, he probably just doesn’t care about workers)).
A company and its shareholders demand fast turnaround,
too fast
to guarantee safety.
Norfolk Southern and its shareholders crush a strike
with the help of Joe Biden
and force rail workers to check cars too fast,
while the workers have no sick days
and not enough money,
and the company uses billions to buy back stock
and line the pockets of the owners and shareholders,
and all this negligence
(in the name of profit)
derails the train,
ejecting volatile chemicals into the atmosphere
and decimating the ecosystem
in and around East Palestine, Ohio.
Officials claim that after a “controlled burn” of said volatile chemicals,
the area is now quote safe unquote.
Meanwhile, cops arrest journalists,
and visitors taking pictures of dead fish
are advised that they’ll be arrested
if they’re with any media outlet.
How the fuck do you sum up all of this disgusting fuckery?
Norfolk Southern murders Ohio ecosystem?
Anti-worker sentiment throws train off tracks?
Capitalism kills, again?
It’s getting old and I’m
getting tired, just like
they want me to be.
This system needs to go.
Binging Feelings
Okay, fine,
I believe in soul mates,
I think to myself
while I watch rom-coms
and cry
again.
The Opportunistic Poet 