Do You Even Want to Think About the Other Side?

March 28, 2011 § Leave a comment

Answer #1

I forget sometimes there’s more
over there.

I mean, my mother never really worried
I would dig the hole to China—molten
earthcore might first stop me (not likely).

All the maps show one large USA
like a fat headless bison, its stubby texas
and florida legs pushing away from
the rest of the world.

I’ve started to wonder
what it’s running away from.

Answer #2

No. I don’t. I really don’t, but I do.
Every day. I think about trading
the tattoo fund for cupcake cookbooks
and interior design; giving up the Honda Rebel
for aprons, wine, adorable hors d’oeuvres
on the patio, for the daughter whose face
I never got to see or touch or name. He left.
Everyone shrugs me off like an overgrown coat,
Why can’t you still have all that? What’s worse,
the thought that I can’t do it without him or
the slow horror of realizing that I can?

Answer #3

The buttered side? The sunny-side up?
The dark side of the cobwebbed psyche?
I’ve seen it all. I’ve held
my breath for months…
waiting to rise to the surface again—
rising, sinking, waiting to dry only
to soak, choking and sputtering—these
infuriating bubbles— and still
never drown.

Answer # 4

After the breath fails, the hair
and nails keep growing.

The eyes reopen, their windows

The flesh digests in worm bellies,
The movement stiff

and jerky yet the hunt for cerebral
sustenance continues—

Words words words though the garbage

throat can only mangle a few
unfortunate vowels.

Answer # 5

I don’t want to think about the tiny mouths
of zeros sitting like sloppy bellies beside
the vitamins or the chemical ingredients
whose pronunciation sticks between my teeth.

Serving size—always much less than I’m hungry
for. Empty. Overflowing sodium, sugar artifice,
delicious imitation of the actual thing. For once

I just want to eat the fucking cupcake.

Answer # 6

On this planet
I have gone
as far away from New Jersey
as a person can get
without getting closer again.


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