Stand Still

The batteries in my apple clock have run out
Not sure when it happened until I noticed that
10:53 is permanently twice a day
My electric toothbrush is dying,
sputtering, and spinning slowly
There's a basket of batteries somewhere
but I can't find it amongst the piles of bills and newspapers

"Recession Over: So Much Better Than Last Year"

Last year I could afford my electronic toothbrush
and my choices weren't narrowed down between
a stick of deodorant or more mascara
and only eating the incredible edible egg
The price-tag of my underused education
swings idly from boots I can't afford
I'm afraid it might be a winter full of sandals

Now I understand being too tired to go to work,
because not having good work exhausts you,
needing to go to the doctor,
but feeling bad makes it hard to get up

I'm not sure who writes the newspapers right now,
but I'm sure I don't like them
I'm getting awfully tired of 10:53

Comments

  1. Molli RocketSeptember 21, 2010 at 5:46 AM

    Another perfect poem tho. I'm glad you spend the energy you have on words. I guess they don't say Starving Artist for nothing.

    ReplyDelete
  2. FridaySeptember 21, 2010 at 7:56 AM

    For serious, Molli. For serious.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ChocolateSushiCouture- Photo shoot, Spring 2009

Image
I never thought that on a rainy spring day I would be in a studio in downtown Chicago with a cute little assistant shyly rubbing bronzer into my legs. He was so shy, in fact, that he couldn't continue up to my thighs. (A fact made obvious later when my skirt hiked up and the skin was pale enough to blind Helen Keller.) Nor did I think that I'd have an exuberant stylist (see below) with his hands up said skirt, and down my shirt as well. ("Don't worry honey, this means nothing to me.") Ah, it's a good life I discovered just a scant few months ago. My friend, plus-size model Teslyn Butler , who I met at a commercial shoot, recommended me to a local designer named Niehla Ollie who was in dire straights for a Caucasian, curvy model. After sending a few snapshots through email, Niehla agreed to use me for a small photo shoot. I was folded into an enthusiastic embrace in her apartment and immediately put into make-up while I learned the basic ins-and-outs of plus
Read more

Oblivion

Orgasms splinter me Gasping darkness tilts into oblivion I am a thousand different breaths on the other side The distance mounts between us I cannot tell you that making love is suicide I don't want to die
Read more

Never at the Same Train Stop

Riding on the "L" from Evanston, way up on the northside and at the end of the Purple Line, (For non-Chicagoans, it's about as far away from my house as you can get.) my hip is throbbing from my second round with circus class and my head is spinning from therapy. As I get closer to the southside I can feel some of the tension leaking away and I know that soon I will be home; I can put ice on my ass and stomp around in frustration. (Well, limp around animatedly in frustration, anyway.) I'm sunk into my hoodie and pretending I'm the only one on the train when a gaggle of teenage girls sit in my vicinity. I keep my eyes averted but tune my ears in, prepared to be irritated/entertained by their conversation. Their voices take on the important edge of people who are convinced they should be listened to, and lets face it, who doesn't love hearing teenagers fling their hormones at each other? One girl in particular stands out to me because she's wearing a strip
Read more