The woman next to me studies intensely,
"How to do the Perfect Dumbbell Fly."
Then the train stops. I have nothing left to get off my chest.
The woman next to me studies intensely,
"How to do the Perfect Dumbbell Fly."
Then the train stops. I have nothing left to get off my chest.
We were all Gaga.
Who my ancestors fucked
has never been so fascinating.
Some days,
I’d gladly accept my 75¢ on the dollar
for 25% of your bus seat.
Trying to convince myself
I am not the sky
Or the sunset
That when the light falls, there’s life
in the darkness left behind.
I’ve got until 4:38pm CST to find it.
North and south met East and West
at State and Grand
forming a chorus of chaos
that surged from Trump Tower
with an effigy of the common enemy –
a president-elect-
who managed to incite outrage in a city that,
for once,
was colorblind.
...I said, "Sometimes a drink alone is good for the soul."
But I lied.
Everyone meticulously presses buttons
on small black boxes
As the rooftops shuffle past in disarray.
No one is unattached.
Then there's her, wearing purple flats, staring at nothing.
Heat wrenches ass faults
saturates divisions,
soaks perfectly arranged buildings
until the facades fall away
leaving nothing but sweat
and bullets.
A ragged old woman sits across from me on the bus.
She's hunchback,
toothless,
with pieces of worn boots strapped to her feet with duck tape.
"You in the black coat," she spits,"you got a problem?"
We pass by a bank sign that says it's 12 degrees,
but I don't feel cold anymore
Beauty may only be skin deep,
but when you weigh nothing,
that's all there is.
Just doing my civic duty.
Partisan poll personnel,
Shouting matches worthy of reality TV,
Lines worthy of the USSR,
and the woman who didn't speak English was turned away.
America is an inconvenient democracy.
Old people holding hands at the mall never age or die,
they just circle the food court endlessly.
His sweatpants are tied in rope-bows
leaving fat stubs dangling over the edge of his wheelchair,
like a child.
They kick to and fro as he shakes his head and babbles.
Walking by, I get a little older.
He’s past 50, Greek or Italian with big, hairy hands.
He cradles a 2X4 on his lap,
stares into its flesh-colored shadows
runs his fingers down its smooth spine.
He's wearing a wedding ring,
But I wonder if he touches his wife the same way.
The penis gets all the credit for being a thought leader,
but I’m proud to say my clitoris can be just as one-dimensional as a man.
Warning:
Talent is not sexually transferable.
Christmas started with a Bloody
and ended the same way.
I didn't hear from my father, again.
My step-sister didn't show up, again.
My step-brother was arrested, again.
I paid for an earlier flight back to Chicago.
"Home" is relative,
like one's tolerance for pain.
I just tried to call you an asshole
but spellcheck turned it into "ads hole"
which, given our profession, is perfect.
We said goodbye,
then snuck side-eyed glances at each other across the tracks.
Transit posters have never been so interesting.
© 2020 Leslie Ann Gray