This is a really long story so just skim through the lengthy parts.
I was just invested in a long parenthetical kiss, the kind that gives
off a pleasant order and drags the invisible children over the molten
possibilities of life without asking to lessen one’s anonymity.
Like I said this is a lengthy story. I noticed that my heart
was dropped kicked around the operating room floor.
It was in a paper bag wrapped Dickensonesque.
But I hate when people complain don’t you?
Well there was Steffen, who I replaced. He ran
off with an older woman. And Marjorie who thought
she was a miracle and could only talk in radiating episodes.
This whole poem is backfiring. Yesterday I drove
past a field of Christmas trees and felt like a reformed prince.
And when it started snowing, albeit lightly, I felt like a saint
for several seconds. I stopped the car and turned off my wiper-blades.
I was crying a little because I knew that most of the saints
have been martyred, which is a bad thing, unless you’re in high school.
Then all the kids gather around, pat you on the back,
and call you a hero. I rolled down the window and a few flakes fell in.
I could not spend another long second here because my family would
send out a search party. I had to get back
which wasn’t bad, but every now and then I make a mess
of things and spend a lot of time making checkmarks.
Anyways, I had just parted lips with the stewardess, but it’s o.k
she’s my wife and has nice curves. It was nice to be up in the air,
in a rocket with delicate curtains. I charted where we were.
I smiled so calmly I was able to notice the man with the bomb
tucked underneath his seat. He didn’t notice me or anything,
but I good at noticing things like that. I think I’ll wink.
