February realism
Hello,
Boy.
Here’s
what happens when
I get snowed in and
read Bukowski.
a warning:
There are
A few platitudes,
maybe some marketing
ploys
hand-picked,
exclusively
for you!
[Read Now]
because
this letter
is aimed at those
who reject poems
in favor of
what’s
just “Honesty,”
Ok:
Sometimes
Truth is
dirty & shiftless
muffled,
Malemployed,
Left out to
the brutal
Cold.
Here it is: I’m
Sad that
I’m actually
(15-minutes of)
upset over
Someone
That I
Never had
& Met only once,
in a bar,
If I recall
correctly,
(As if this were not
fresh memory,
and freshly balked…)
You bought me
Three rum
and cokes,
Top-shelf!
oh-how-gracious —
And
rosily, we
kissed
hello/goodbye.
The first,
fluttering
dance-
inducing &
True, mean
Sensuality
I’ve seen in
such a while,
Then we both
Rushed off into
our own icy night
pried-apart, Cheerful.
Wind gripping
our visages
like frosted
balaclavas
as we griped at
the Cold.
Sometimes
I just have to
take things
Like that
fucking kiss
At face
(to face)
Value.
I admit: I don’t refuse
reality. I just
Forget it exists.
For example,
I woke up
last night,
Shards of
glassed water
clinking hard
on my cracked
window
Not half-dreaming
this would be the
day (already?)
that you’d
decide
Maybe?
your time
Should be spent
Otherwise.
You should have known
better:
If you’re weak enough to
Ask: 10/10 times,
Vale! my dear,
You’re right.
in saying I wouldn’t
have time for you
too-focused-
on-my-work-
and-not-affectionate-
enough
although
I was perilously
close to being alone
with you?
although
(I hope you know)
ten seconds
before you told me
this
I gave someone
else up…
the very
Epitome of
bad timing.
_Isn’t that
the last
excuse of
false-suited
People_
oh, and
by the way
To you
maybe
this poem
seems
tasteless
and poorly
thought out.
And maybe
It does to
Me too
but sometimes
that’s life
it
reflects the
Utter
travesty that
any “us”
really Is or
Becomes.
Even if “us”
only met
Once.
In a bar
On a
Wednesday.
© Maggie McCombs 2024. All Rights Reserved.
