. . .some people are just not fuckable material...
**flashing eyelids like saucers that fly**
i just walked past
the sex scented living room and
on
into
the kitchen
poured cool tap water
into the bunn coffee maker
chock’d full of nuts
and it began
brewing
like he was
in the other room and
i stared
out the window at
nothing
out there like
outer space with
stars turned the other way and
the window never ever wore
a curtain like
an excuse
i never ever have ready
real quick (for this one) and
along the edge
of the empty double bright white
porcelain sink
my fingers
tap tap tap’d
feverishly like
Liberace fingers on
a Baldwin baby grand
and
i waited
3 minutes
for the coffee and
it only took him
2 maybe
another ½ minute to
shriek
caitie___ come here
now as i poured 2
i was pretty
sure i knew
what he wanted
for before and after
a most compassionate
ceremonious
night
earlier
i wrote wrote and wrote
poem after poem
prose after short shit stories
quotes mostly
bad and or incomplete
crumpled papers tossed into my
unlatch’d backpack that sat
against an old japanese torii table like
he was but he was
sunk inside
a pale purple pear shaped leather like bean
bag with
nothing on and the only thing
nothing i
wrote about that night
was about
him and rarely
did he read
anything i'd write
about anybody else but
him
i walked back
femininely undone
like he liked
his worn long sleeved
thin pinstriped shirttail
upturned cuffs to the elbow
unbuttoned
all the way except
the bottom button remained
buttoned
i handed him a mug with
the extreme bean caption’d
in goldtone’d fancy fonts all over and
he handed me one
of my own crumpled-up
paper
poems he smoothed even
and asked
who’s this about
i took a sip from my own
signature series
cup
moved in intimately my
sex as close as
the mustache lining
his upper lip and
i looked at him batting
my flashing eyelids like
saucers that fly in
a high sky that wasn't really
there that day and i said
well it could be about you
don’t give me that bullshit
i know how you write
i know you write about me
this isn’t about me
this is about some other asshole
i thought we had something going
i thought you were gonna move in with
me who is this wankerjerkoffmotherfucker
who is this other fuck
and as he got up
his hand tightened
my neck like an epileptic
fit and
eye to eye
flesh against thrashing flesh
nonstop
his mouth surged like
a tidal wave
break dancin
straight up
in my face and
he poked me with the fat forefinger of his other hand
into my breast as he hollered
i never jacked-off in pancake batter
arranged it
as
as
you put it
an erotic breakfast appe’teaser’ and
served you up in bed like some
faggot gigolo
step back man back off
back the fuck off already
i sniffed and he
turned me around
let go of my neck and
i slumped down into the bean bag
listen you i
did move in with you
last september
one night
it didn’t work
remember that you
have this attitude
problem
like now
like jekyll and hyde
you are and
that i don’t dig but
wait a minute
i went over bent
down searching inside my backpack and
like a stalking silhouette
hard pressed against my ass end
he pleaded pushed and rubbed
one
more
time
dammit caitie dammit i
love you
i want you to be with me
please please...
save it i said and
here i saved this for you
what is this
it’s a keychain i found
in spencers gifts in
the mall store
see that's what i love about
you you
take something horrible and
turn it into something
fun
ny i'm sorry please
don't go...
i buttoned up
his old shirt
slid into my scooby doo's
grabbed
my stuff
watched him read the keychain
which shouted
‘just because you bone me
doesn’t mean you own me’
and
i said
goodbye
at
least
one
more
time
**tv ad**
a lawyer’s television ad
states that if you’ve
been stricken with
hemorrhagic stroke
bleeding of the brain or
death due to
Phenylpropanolamine
commonly found in
over the counter
cough cold remedies and appetite suppressants
then
call 1-800-STROKED
for you are positively guaranteed
BIG BUCK settlements
of course
i think
if you’ve been
diagnosed with
death
surely you are
out of good
luck
