Sunday, May 6, 2012
the first time I was funny
my hands are cupped, held up to the light
catching nothing, but it feels warm.
my eyes squint through broken Coke bottles
my future's so dark, I need infrared lighting.
it sputters in and out the way the rain does
on those October mornings when everyone
forgets my name and they call me "new kid..."
"let's cut classes, get a couple burgers
because I remembered today's your birthday..."
you shrug and shoulder your tattered
corduroy bag, you hustle me up the stairs.
my heart lifts, a cloud so easily pushed.
you have rings on each finger and a ketchup
bottle in one hand, you bang on the end.
clink clink clink clink clink clink clink.
oh, it's absolute music. a clotted word escapes
my throat nervously, shaken free-I say something.
You laugh, I laugh. the first time I was funny-
that day you twisted and shook something up-
I was pulled through my narrow nothingness
on the other side I have rings on each finger
and a ketchup bottle in one hand, clink clink
clink clink- I laugh, this is vaguely familiar.
You laugh, but it's muffled-
you've face-planted in the mud, heels in the air.
and you don't remember that soggy October.
No you never remember anything,
even though you were there.
What a wild imagination I have.
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