Allow Me To Break the Ice with a Sledgehammer
Google me. The first hit you will get is a lady wrestler porn star
from the late 1980s. That’s not me. Trust me.
I went into meteorology because I’m a little closer to the clouds
than most people. If people only knew what really went into the forecast.
I can sleep anytime. It’s my job. This works for me
because I am not a morning person. Are you asleep yet?
I’m dating a stripper. She said she loved me too. Twice.
She hemmed and hawed at first, but then I told her you were a poet.
I’ve drawn a beauty mark on my face in Sharpie and put on a silly hat.
I went all out (which is my norm). I do regret the loss.
I’m not ready to love again. He could be anywhere.
This is a poem I wrote a long time ago.
Today, I received one handmade card and one package from Portland; a postcard from Hampton, Mass.; and letters from Seattle and NY. The lines in today’s poem are all taken from the above correspondence. Basically, I pulled lines that I liked from the letters as I was reading them, and then rearranged the lines into something akin to a found poem.
#crazyawesome thing of the day: After writing yesterday’s time-travel poem, I received a photo in today’s mail which says, “Me and my friend Gil in 1968, a few weeks before discovering the Quantum Distortion Field which enables time travel.”
Yesterday, I sent a card to my stepmom for her birthday, along with an antique postcard of poppies that I found.