Sunday, July 13, 2014

eight cups a day


I’m reading this magazine article
on the end-table in the doctor’s waiting room
that compares ‘universal consciousness’
to drops of water that form together to create a lake.

Once in the examination room the doc explains that

all 6.7 billion assholes should drink eight cups a day
to maintain true health.

I assume the most efficient way to accomplish this
would be one every two hours that I’m awake.
Set the cell phone alarm, make it spring or bottled, not tap.
Or wait , better to ladle it from that ‘lake of drops’.

Let those cups come together and forge a new me
with a social conscience, maybe even a desire to vote.

As the therapy grows and becomes the rage
we will all come to realize that we’re more than
dehydrated egos, devouring and pushing things
inside these ugly bags of skin
and that we all drink from the same waters,
need to see Dr. Harding and would benefit greatly
from reading the same magazines.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Breakfast and some news at the ‘Twin Kiss’ Diner

     

The booth was claustrophobic.
The sports section I held between us
was like a volleyball net,
your stares lofting over
like shots of fresh egg
I couldn’t spike.
When Alice came to take your order
and you looked at each other
for the first time, the silence
was as thick as the coffee.

Twins – identical,
if her hair had been curled
and she’d had some cleavage.
I can’t remember who
was first to speak, probably me,
but then you ordered.
One egg, one sausage –
one carb.
I felt I had to order two of something
just on principle.

You ripped my ‘Post’ to shreds
and smashed my reading glasses
before you stormed out of the diner.
I wasn’t sure if it was the five sugars
I snuck in your coffee
or my comment about
your hang-ups being cultural,
most likely it was my suggestion
we get together with the waitress
when she was done her shift.

I stood four-eyed in front
of the cash register
as Alice gave me six quarters
change for a dollar
for a USA Today,
winked, cracked her gum,
lightly dragged her forefinger
across her lower lip,
stuck out her studded tongue
and walked back into the kitchen.