Ghost World

We shared a movie.
There might have been popcorn.
I remember the florescent light on your strawberry-blond curls.
You liked Enid more than Rebecca.
I felt relieved that you didn't want the blond with tits.
You understood that last drunken night.
All she wants is cock and comfort, you said.
So did I.
But you didn't understand me until 3 years later,
when we were both covered in paint.
The gray flaked over your strawberry-blond curls.
I should have chose you, you said.
No shit Sherlock.

Comments

  1. AnonymousAugust 20, 2010 at 8:55 PM

    Aaaaahhh! Gotta love that freestyle ending to a poem!! "No shit Sherlock": Priceless :D

    ReplyDelete
  2. NoelleAugust 23, 2010 at 8:59 AM

    This poem feels just like the tone of Ghost World... I love that.

    ReplyDelete

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