poem of the day 03.05.14

to the young romantic in me

i was such a young romantic back then

my notebooks and journals were filled

with ruminations on the great american highway

the ol’ american highway as i called it

musing jazz music i hardly knew

anointing every truck driver a saint

downing gallons of coffee and beer like precious manna

writing about how reading ginsberg’s kaddish

was like connecting to a god

even though i couldn’t make it through the thing

and still can’t

i was so sensitive

too sensitive for all of the girls in pittsburgh

yet i walk around having crush after crush after crush

my poor girlfriend at the time

we had to break up  because i wasn’t the one for her

i wasn’t stable enough with my wild kerouacian dreams

of roaming the american landscape

when the only landscape i roamed

was a south side bar on a friday night

i was such a romantic and such a sensitive asshole

with my goatee and ever-present notebooks of gloom

writing “blues” poems full of gobbledygook

the first brave soul to ever put words to paper

having deep, profound, literary moments just brushing my teeth

or taking the morning bus to college

everything was art and art was everything

if i ran into young romantic self now

i’d have to hold myself back from beating my own ass

i’d grab my romantic self by the collar and tell him

to quit whining in those old journals and get a fucking job

get out of your parents’ house and get a clue

find a woman and let her destroy you

then try to be profound and romantic

when the rent comes due

and the money from all of those student loans you took

show up with the electric bill

try being romantic on the loud bus after work

when all you want is to go home and have a drink

or in the grocery store, asshole

when they’re out of coffee and cat food

and some bitch hits you with her cart

then tells you that it’s your fault

for daydreaming.