Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Saucy Saucers

I long for the days when saucers weren't absent. 
When teacups rested gently on top of their friendly 
companion and often alongside a delicatable cookie.
I daydreamt the day away with visions of tiny
little teaspoons clinking these robbin's egg
blue saucers and creating such a beautiful sound.
I wish for tea parties and tiny triangle sandwiches. 
There was a time when women dyed the bread. 
I want to eat purple cucumber, diagonally cut sandwiches.
I just really miss saucers.
They weren't a major part of my 
growing up or anything, but I think the gesture of them is nice, 
their existence is rather beautiful.

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Am I Ready? Squeeze Me

I want to get dressed up and go to the grocery store, 
one of those 24HR places, 
buy dog food, for a dog I don't have, 
in my party dress and leave a trail of glitter on the linoleum and make wishes in the produce aisle. 
As I squeeze avocados that I won't buy. 
I just want to know if they're ready 
because I don't know if I am or not. 
Would someone squeeze me to see?
Are you ready, I'm ready. Squeeze.

Friday, January 17, 2014

An Actual Pep Email

In these times of great pony shows, do not buckle at the added pressure of insignificant defeats. The tidy equestrian will ride you into the ground and send cyber chain letters to stir a pot of tepid manure and surely push you in. Allow him to waiver on your 'must-have' mare qualities, but bully him with the stallion he thinks you're not so that he can continue to waiver on your perspective. Be mindful that President Donkey and his favourite foal are allies of the worst kind and as Nick Carraway said to Gatsby, 
'They're a rotten crowd! You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.'

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Like Books on a Shelf, Spines Touching

Muffled laughs are extinguished by
the guises of cold brew and faded lipstick.
This is the moment that could move mountains
if they were outdoors,
but instead,
cramped in the nook of a hole in the wall,
like books on a shelf,
their spines touching.
The beer can amplifies good times
highlights rosy cheeks.
Which can be misinterpreted
as blushing or embarrassment.
Silent innuendos spill over
eyes in a vice grip.
Each encouraging the other without a word.
Silent dares.
A silent game of tag.
Both very much it.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Choosing Your Emojis Better Than Your Produce

There are people who are having more honest 
conversations with strangers then themselves.  

There are also people who spend more time
picking out their emojis than they do their produce. 

There are days much darker than nights. 

There is a moment in time that I haven't gotten to yet.
When I do think I might let it pass me by.
Mistake it for a different moment that I have yet to experience also. 

Can I put whip cream on my bagel
in public and pretend
like its the best cream cheese in the world?

I think I can. 
I think I might. 
And wash it down with the coldest glass of chocolate milk. 

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Morbid Mourning

Apart of the cattle today.
Herding from one mode of transportation to foot.
Following in succession behind another bloke
who looks just like me, might feel just like me,
might even be going to the same place as me.
He looked a lot more worried.
I was worried, but about the weather
or maybe if I was running late.
Or maybe I was worried about the
expiration date on my milk in the 
community refrigerator. 

Had I remembered to start the dishwasher?

I thought this morning, while I trudged along,
apart of the cattle, tagged, no name.
Heading off to some corporate pasture.
Stocked with fresh paper, pens, tasks.

I thought.

If a random act of terrorism; 
mother nature,
bodily defect, 
happened right then and there,
while I was in the limbo of concrete,
between outside and inside,
the hovering space between subway and mall..

If something happened right then and there.
I would instantly be apart of this group.
Remembered and forgotten, instantly.
I thought I could go, now could be the time.
It could happen and I would be a newspaper
headline, a number in a list, a name on a stone.

These things happen everywhere.
They could easily happen to me.

I wondered this morning
what the toll would be.

And would it be higher because 
it was negative forty one degrees.

Monday, January 6, 2014

Cloud Bandage

I'll move over and share my warm spot with you. 
I think that might be the nicest thing I have ever offered anyone. 

The day breaks the sky when everyone is sleeping.
But does it mend while we are all awake?
Is there is a giant bandage made of cloud floating above us. 

If the grass is greener on the other side
why did that observer come back to tell us?
I think we are missing a piece of the story. 

Punctuation and Punctuality. 
They sound a lot a like
but I can't tell if the exclamations
are late or if the question marks are right on time. 

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Sandwich Shaped Shadows

Light fills teacups and casts sandwich
shaped shadows on the empty plates.

I've been running late most of my life.
Even though I cross the street when I really
shouldn't cross the street.
The steam that comes up from the sewer grates looks spooky.
I peer right in close, in case my future is laying
there in the vapours.
I've only caught sight of oncoming traffic.

The snow today looks like dandruff.
Dandelions should be able to appear all year round.
It would give us all more courage.
I've noticed things, but nothing in particular.

I play air instruments in my air band.
Technically we are always on tour.

I can never get my windows as clean as I'd like them to be,
so the light is always distorted, I try to write my name in
the way it catches the speck of dust floating around me.

That same dust that gets inhaled and stuck inside me.
The dust never really settles, it just rests until a force
much larger than itself carries it upwards and onward.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

What Big Vocabulary You Have

The mind is an interesting cocktail shaker of power.
Batteries not included.
No hands.
No brakes.
You know you're crashing.

I crashed into a tree once.
Splinters in my teeth for days.
I tried to put back all the pieces.
I couldn't figure out how old
that tree had been.
I reeled on it for sometime.

Cornflakes is a concept I can handle.

Flowers, what sup with that?
Are they just Earth's laughter.

Cliffhangers in stories sometimes
make me question my abilities. 
I guess that's why they are called
cliffhangers. So you can decide
if you're going to make it or not.

If, literary, I decided to let myself go,
Would all my pent up vocabulary dissolve?

Television Shoulders

a television rest on your shoulders, 
where your head should be, 
it spouts all of this information dressed up as facts. 
an oreo stuffed with words, begging me to buy. 
there is a siren's song coming out of your ears.
i can't help but want to get closer to it. 
feel the static of your new face on my fingers.
sparks fly and i'm on cloud nine,
televised isolation blooms. 
during this tell-all-time of reportive conclusions, 
we leave all ends loose and all beginnings solid.
the only fact checking that is happening is if i'll agree.
the only information being communicated
is the fast kind, the kind that will leave.

Friday, January 3, 2014

Chronic Whip Cream

Most of the time I order things that come with 
whip cream just for the whip cream.
I think you might be catching onto me. 
That I am always casting my eyes around, 
trying to peer inside of things that don't have insides.
I think I've misplaced a piece of me on the streetcar 
and I am hoping that when it returns to me, 
it will tell me all it has seen.
I am emotionally invested in all the wrong stocks. 
I've fallen in love with tangible items that will
never love me back, this might be the easiest kind of love.
I cannot see the MTV moon man from my balcony, 
but I squint and try real hard.
The notifications that come to my phone, 
notify me others are dancing and making 
funny faces no where near me.
I am a chronic snacker, 
large meals are daunting and demand attention. 
My focus is fleeting and I can't love the macaroni the way you do.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Milkshake Quake

please eat this cheeseburger
i feel sorry for your bones
they do not feel the weight
of life upon them
they rattle in the wind
a sordid song
please drink this milkshake
to make the bones
quit their quaking
and leave specks of
your nail polish under
my pillow so i know you'll keep coming back

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

The Shore of Myself

seashells crumple
like loose sheets of paper
under the pressuring
swollen mind
down they float
out of my skull
into my stomach
corroding all that i love
the shore of myself
beats along the current
that you've provided
my ultimate demise
you've electrocuted me