Fruit Flies
Ahhgh! Fruit Flies
in the oranges again!
They were stacked
so nicely--Giza
in the wicker basket.
I had a bar of Ecuadorian
chocolate to go with
them. 77% cacao.
Mmm. Right there!
On the coffee table.
You'd've sliced them
when you got back
this weekend, and
slurped the juice out.
The chocolate could've
slowly melted down
your throat.
But oh! Oh! Those
fruit flies mucked
it up. They're in there
now, screwing inside
your Welcome Home
oranges!
First Kiss
Curt's first kiss
occurred in second grade,
in a schoolyard,
at recess.
Swooping red pig-
tails, puckered lips,
shrill giggles, the thin
swash of spittle.
He didn't wipe away
the wet evidence as
he sprinted. It
air-dried.
Hidden, between
the cafeteria and
a pine tree, he
curled himself.
The horror. The
horror. The ten
absurdly long minutes.
The bell.
The Cynoclept
Poodles are my speciality,
but I hunt beagles too.
2 comments:
it's about time you brought out some poems...you are billy collinsesque with your ability to balance humorous and serious notes. I want more.
also, i want to send that one poem to curtis. thanks for your permission.
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