August 19, 2012

Waiting Things Out

Sometimes waiting things out

Stuff on stuff

And stuff on stuff on stuff

A heaping pile of facts

Apples, Sundays, sunshine

How would you like a knuckle sandwich?

How would you like your eggs?

I'm allergic to them, but I love making frittatas

I also love making fish tacos, good drinks, red sauce, Indian food

I love cooking for people and watching them eat

I'm usually less hungry when I cook for a bunch of people, and then I can't really taste the food either

Adam Good taught me how to make grits proper

I'm going to have some in the morning

Count back from 30

Count back from 28

There's more

There are a hundred ways to die

People drowned all the time

There are the oceans, rivers, lakes

Creeks, bogs, streams, aquifers, pools, seas

Quarries, tanks, bays, and harbors

There are more and none of them know you

They are out there, full of water, and they don't know you

They never will

Even if your lungs were filling with water

They don't have brains

They don't wear shirts

They flow and your forget

They flow and you breathe air

With your brain and your shirt

You breathe air

Good on you

Location:W Pratt St,Baltimore,United States


Susan said...

Stuff on Stuff on Stuff
can squeeze you like compressed
air in a tank for walking the bottom
of those impersonal waterways
where anger might dissipate
if only you weren't still waiting.

At least that's where I went with your poem. Which I like. Very much.