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Turning Flour into Coke

by V. Blake

one of her front teeth was crooked.
just one.
it was the kind of thing
that gets lost in the whole of a person
right up until that one fucking moment
when the whole of a person gets lost in it.

i don't remember what she was trying to tell me,
or if she had a face.

and it gets you thinking after awhile
that maybe you're the most shallow person there is,
and maybe you should grow up,
and maybe you should learn some fucking humility,
and maybe your teeth aren't so perfectly straight either,
and god dammit i need to find a mirror,
and what the fuck is everyone looking at?

breathe.

okay.

zen.

okay then.

i guess the point i'm trying to make is that
there won't be any fireworks at the apocalypse.
these completely fucked politics of the everyday
will be what gets us in the end.
we'll be staring into the face of god
and notice that one of his nostrils
is just slightly bigger than the other,
and we'll all choke to death
on the air between
our awkward
silences.

wait.

sorry.

what was the question?

02/01/2012

Posted on 02/02/2012
Copyright © 2024 V. Blake

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 02/04/12 at 01:55 AM

I could read a piece like this forever, and almost certainly never get bored. It's a strange world out there, man, and you're one of the best tour guides in the business to check it out.

Posted by Sarah Wolf on 02/11/12 at 04:39 PM

I like the bizarre nature of this. Reminds me of an awkward comedy when we get locked into strange details in life that bother us for misunderstood reasons.

Posted by Kara Hayostek on 03/05/12 at 01:48 AM

Wow, interesting read...I too seem to find flaws in nearly everything, I have to purposely try not to. But lol I loved the ending...

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