Tuesday, October 27, 2015

poem of the day 10.27.15


she looks like
bridget fonda
calvin tells me
and of course she does
has that short red hair
that upturned nose of celluloid legacy
fair skinned
and of course calvin is in love with her
he brings them around
keeps bringing them around
never learns
she sips a cranberry and vodka
perfect girl drink
calvin sips cranberry and vodka
because its suddenly his new favorite drink
one more in a long line of women
that calvin will have stolen from him by somebody else
but i’m not in the mood to play thief tonight
i’m lovesick
i’m dwindling finances
in a go nowhere job
i’m a week of quarter draft nights ahead of everyone
and these holy saturday nights
are losing their luster
bridget she leans into me
perfume and cranberry and vodka all mixed
says, i have a new tattoo on the small of my back
a tramp stamp
someone said in a bar last week
as we drunk watched a parade of women
with the same discernable mark
wanna see it? she leans forward
has me pull up her maroon soft blouse
cream white back one little mole
i can’t make out what the tattoo is
celtic symbol
or something else that won’t mean a thing to her
when she hits forty
excusing myself i head toward bathroom
as calvin sucks down his drink smiling
checking myself in the mirror
i think that guy on the other side
looks like a crook after all

i’m sure i know he’s me.                                              

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