I.

sarah doesn't want me
to tell her how much
i love her over
and over again, even though
i don't use
the word. tonight i ask

dave how influential
words are, & he brings
up hitler. sarah
masturbates
in the corner

of the futon
dave was scared
to sit in earlier, &
for good reason. i couldn't
bring myself to tell him
that sarah got

fucked there last
night as she phoned
monica, & i forgot
about her masturbation
sessions just staring
at america's next

top model. years ago
she masturbated to a map
of the world as she typed
to me online. just canada.
like ottowa. in these rooms

there are
no maps, and no one
got her that globe
for christmas. i saw
the globe

written on so many lists. told
myself how amazing
i would be
if i got her one, but
that it would be too
obvious. oh the brilliant
get the obvious

& aren't scared
to say it. this boy obv
has no life, i
wrote last night
& glued
in my journal

so it could gain
strength. every other
page is torn
out now, pages
that have been wasted

with shit attempts
at poetry
like this.


II.

it's not poetry
until the sun
itself destroys
it, until

the father himself
blesses it.


01/06/2008
Posted on 01/06/2008
Copyright © 2025 Paul Marino

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Jolie Jordan on 01/07/08 at 03:16 PM
I love this. because my real name is Sarah. and because it's really good.
Posted by Frankie Sanchez on 01/08/08 at 08:59 PM
i obv get it. this owns. you always impress me.