A Poem About LoveA Poem by 49k_jdys Snapshot of little emotions. i feel bad for the short boys with naked woman tattoos and trucks with wheels as tall as their heads because they think that maybe a monster truck and a sexy miniature will somehow compensate for the steel toe boots with the wedges inside that they pull off each night before climbing into a bed that is empty because they forget that girls are short too and I feel bad for the zombies that walk in the street and swear at passing cars because they didn’t realize that their eyes never move from buzzing rectangle necessities that might as well be their own appendages instead of their bony hands like the boniest hands for twiglike girls in bathroom stalls who hope that cigarettes and chewing gum might run away the remembrance of vomit off their pinkish white tongues for which they curse themselves and the whoredom of the omnipotent Hostess cupcake and make me feel for them the way I feel for the scruffy kids who get picked last but hold onto hope even as the lineup narrows and fades and the fat kid with the crewcut scrunches up his nose and says we’ll take him I guess the same way he would take a free hot dog he guessed even though he already ate five and wasn’t hungry I feel bad for the ones with red sprinkle pimples and big black glasses that spend hours at the mirror claiming they won’t find love in all their lives even though they’ve only spent eleven percent of it as much as the entire life of a dog down the street with the shiny pink collar who rolled in s**t and came to the name princess that I feel bad for since the one who calls her is a skinny youngold woman with rotting teeth and tobacco chew who feeds the dog cheese crackers not kibble so it’s fat and slobbery and the woman’s greasy little kids kick it sometimes and laugh and laugh the way kids do at the boys who play with pigtail pink dress girls instead of red bike rebels and pretend to get married instead of playing video games i feel bad for beat up Cadillac dads and unintentional crop top moms with mouths to feed and denials to receive even though applications are equal opportunity and Walmart doesn’t discriminate against parents whose kids got lice a few times and I feel bad for the little beanbag animals kicked under the bed and and stuffed in the cracks are grabbed ‘round the neck and removed from their eyes and noses and buttons like the buttons that used to be in a grandpap’s shirt but burst on a day after grandmaw was gone and he’d gotten beer-bellied and gruff in his Goodwill swimtrunks and with his crabgrass garden in the middle of knick knack paddy whack white trash stray cat streets where in one ear is Sally come home and what the f**k a*****e and don’t play with the lawnmower and in the other is crash bang don’t you talk to me like that woman and giggle giggle stilettos on the tar when was there a time when somebody somewhere didn’t ache for somebody somewhere at the wheel out the racing window but in five minutes forgot and went back to eating a double cheeseburger or a five dollar latte gasping at the news before turning the channel back to beat bop autotune country folk singing about small towns and hard times
© 2018 49k_jdysFeatured Review
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