Tag Archives: romance

Shovel Her Stoop

Forget snowstorms
And wind chills

I want Summer
In my hemisphere
This Valentine’s

A flirty girl
With strappy shoes
And silver toe rings
To boot

Soft soles
At the foot
Of a warm bed
To soothe

A see-through
Sundress
To remove

Before I shovel
Her stoop

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Filed under Poetry

Breakup Song

Tell me everything is alright.
Tell me everything is all right.
Tell me everything is alt right.
Tell me I don’t look fat in these jeans.
Tell me I’m the one that got away.
Tell me this world wasn’t meant for one as beautiful as me.
Tell me I’m on your mind when you come.
Tell me my hands are bigger than the president’s.
Tell me I donate enough to hurricane relief funds.
Tell me you bought my book and the shipping was free.
Tell me I’m a white boy from the suburbs what do I know about “suffering.”
Tell me everything will be O.K.
Tell me everything will be OK.
Tell me everything will be okay.
Tell me I’m more than a hound dog.
Tell me my poem is lovelier than a tree.
Tell me you think of me when you come.
Tell me everybody dies in the end.
Tell me I’m not alone in this world.
Tell me I’ve no longer got you babe.
Tell me what will be will be no more.
Tell me I’m no longer allergic to milk.
Tell me he doesn’t taste the same as me.

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Filed under Poetry

Hot Pursuit

In grade school I used to chase girls on the playground. The cute ones. The ones that drove me crazy. Sometimes girls chased me. We were children caught up in a game no one understood. But we liked it.

It feels like I’m working with a child’s concept of romance. Often I push too hard for the attention of a woman I like. Rather than allowing the game to naturally unfold, I shout, “Okay, I’m here and I’m going to chase you now,” telegraphing my every move. And when the game doesn’t go as planned I assume I’ve played it wrong from the start.

My culture dictates that the Boy “go after” the Girl. I get that. But at 34 I’m starting to wonder what being chased might look like. Maybe I should play it cool. Maybe she’ll come after me.

At any rate, I’m tired. Recess ended twenty-five years ago. And I’m out here all alone.

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Filed under Life