poem of the day 04.23.13

fish oil and ketchup

this thai food tastes like fish oil and ketchup, i think

trying to flag down the waitress for my bill

a pitcher of beer, two bourbons, and two glasses of wine

and i’m done with the smiling faces of the other diners

watching them chew their food and talk common nonsense

i also think about how much i don’t like america or americans

because there’s something inherently dull and stupid about them

but i could probably never live anywhere else out of fear

and when the waitress comes i can’t tell if she’s a boy or a girl

but it’s all right because i’ve never been good a deciding on things.