poet
For What
My insides quiver like the string attached to the antenna.
“Oh! darling, try and get some sleep;
defy the blank screams in your head.
Sail off into the cavernous gems of your childhood.
Crush the beetles beneath your feet;
drink the juices; don’t look back.”
Shame Dame
I don’t want to be an embarrassment anymore.
I don’t want to hang my head down low anymore.
I want to want to be myself.
I want to want to live.
But above it all,
I want to be satisfied with who I am
so I can leave my cocoon
and not be so fucking ashamed
to call myself by my own name,
or look you in the eyes
and tell you how I feel.
20 Grand
I was once lucky enough to have a balcony
It overlooked the sea
My legs would hang off and
my feet would touch the sand
The breeze blew and blew,
but never knocked it down
I would drink tea with seagulls and
shake the hands of fishermen sailing by
The sun and rain would stop by too
They never got along, but I made time for both of them
I collected my ashes in a small tin can,
But my neighbors complained about the low tide
I don’t have a balcony anymore
There was a great storm
It is buried under years of
memories and distance
and what we all thought was love
Ray Charles, Jigsaw, and How I Learned to be Alone on Halloween
2004.
IMDB tells me it was 2004.
A mile-marker in pen internet
to remind me
that ten years feels like minutes.
The movies alone is religion
and AAA Cabs is a chariot.
I snuck in to spend Halloween
under the lights.
2004, I was eighteen
and I’d been drinking-
Instead of parading skin,
I’d left week-old friends
with an Irish goodbye,
and an elevator ride
and a trail of Black and Mild.
Who smokes Black and Milds?
I wanted the burn
but was too scared
of my asthma returning.
Parents gave me a credit card
but read through every charge-
Cash at the Exxon
so I could taste college.
The film on my fingers
from the fatty oil
was a precursor
to my Weight Watchers
point total.
Halloween came to me
over a dispatcher’s speaker:
“We got two but one is
puking in the seat so…
I’m leaving them
at Saint Francis.
I’ll come back in fifteen.”
That’s how long it seemed
for me to burn
down to a plastic filter.
I’m a triple-feature-
the king of The Galleria.
-Nicholas Orsini