Cinnamon Roll Poem

Your present was pretty good;
I’m into that sort of thing,
but I know I’ve never said anything to you about it.
There were three dozen cinnamon rolls when you came,
and that Venetian-looking hipster bakery sent macaroons
that looked and smelled like laundry pods.
Don’t be surprised by desserts…

Kit Kat Poem

Would you like a Kit Kat, sir?
Let me get the cellophane off for you.
Her bra was a front-clasp contraption
like a steam-powered bird 
perched on a bushel of wheat for ambience.

Plywood Poem

They had CDs with no scratches
and put their fingers through the middle
like someone who’s worked at the post office for years.
He was always dropping in on hardware stores
looking for sick deals on discontinued, sub-par plywood,
and their porch was suffering from the habit.
The memo failed through a…

David Bowie Poem

I can gauge the weather by touching the floorboards
and blink three times to know if I have an email.

He left for work three and a half minutes early,
still within the range he’s set for himself.
I try that one-finger wave that hicks do
and…

Slutty Carousel Poem

It’s just another apartment soaked in jet fuel,
and his roommate was rocking ’89 culottes 
as if they’d roll back around like a slutty carousel.

Broadcast Night Poem

I walked straight into a hole in the asphalt.
My amnesia was mostly sewage.
Every time I get sleepy in the shower,
I diagnose myself with chronic “fun” and “Malaysia.”

Soup Nazi Poem

It was the only hospital that didn’t allow visitors.
The front desk had only papers with symptoms,
and you had to just hand yours over, no talking,
in a soup-Nazi fashion that everyone is familiar with.

Tuxedo Pants Poem

You said you were as dyke as a Chevy,
with all the XL features and TV screens.
Lauren, bending over in tuxedo pants,
is messing with a radiator again, muttering
that it’s absurd that these things still exist.
She thought she was Gandhi because she had salt
from some pink mountain…

Bumpit Poem

You’re not allowed to own a Bumpit,
chola-bar-mitzvah-looking plastic
staring back like a harmless coyote, no hunger.
It was made with shrimp byproduct
to give a strong-yet-flexible appeal of around $5.99.
After a random song, I stopped caring
and became an amateur nude model for a painting class
at a…

Dead Snake Poem

Come over here quick
and look at this dead snake.
I don’t think it’s venomous,
but I’ve forgotten that vertebrate tree chart
from junior high and all of its twigs.
Don’t take any pictures.
Let’s see if he has any zootoxins
under his icky palate,
like a plastic sarcophagus
shown to elementary school…