famous sex kittens
by Gabriel Ricard
I walk into a support group of some kind,
I really don’t know what defect they were supporting,
and I immediately hit the bar in the back of the room.
Guess it was a group of real particular heart patients
still willing to keep up the formality of fellowship.
Four elevators to get down here,
and I had to run into no less than two
of the most famous sex kittens I ever spent money on.
They’re not doing well.
The one who’s a poet is thirty-five,
and looks like Gloria Swanson
if Sunset had let her sort-of live forever.
Jessica Lane has four kids
and a long list of permanent names
running down her back.
They’ve never met,
and have no clue what they’re doing here either.
Join the club. I did. My membership card
has been in transit since I was seventeen.
It would be lovely,
just lovely if I could get it sometime soon.
Something tells me it could get me a seat
on one of those trains that could get me
back to the street where I totally, completely
meant to get around to growing up.
Back to where it all started to go wrong.
Lot of people who want that membership card.
I guess that might be what this support group
is all about.
I don’t know. I just wanted to use the bathroom,
or wander around until I met a woman
who would be my line about aspiring to shoot
the apple off my own head.
Whatever keeps me off the streets, too.
Lot of people who do their best thinking
on the night when someone’s going to
finally come crashing through their front door.
We’re just waiting,
for the freefall to have scenery.
This is what it’s come down to.
I make it to the scene on time,
and I tip the bartender in the back
for doing my thinking for me.
Can’t do that every day,
but I have to begin to learn to trust people,
and this is as good a place as any.
I used to trust people.
Then it became a problem.
Gotta get back to it.
Because when I take a seat
amongst the other heavy eyes and faded raincoats
I’ll be trying to think of something well-written to say.
I’ll be looking for someone
to join me out there when it gets to a point
where people seriously start to wonder
if dawn was something they just dreamed up on a fishing trip.
Posted on 02/12/2012
Copyright © 2022 Gabriel Ricard
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Laura Doom on 02/12/12 at 11:01 PM|
Don't they offer you an honorary membership for entertainment value?
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/13/12 at 01:45 AM|
"We’re just waiting,
for the freefall to have scenery." - loved this part especially.
|Posted by Alison McKenzie on 02/13/12 at 05:57 PM|
Since I've already agreed with Kristina on a couple of other poems today (LOL), as I readied myself to copy and paste my favorite lines in your work, I thought to look up and see that she'd already done it!!! Gabe, I'm sure you've heard it a million times, but I love the way you write!! Those lines (that Kristina already posted) especially, plus the "This is what it's come down to."
|Posted by Joan Serratelli on 02/13/12 at 08:52 PM|
I would love to be able to write like you do ! You are so talented.
|Posted by Meghan Helmich on 02/14/12 at 01:52 PM|
Once again, an ending like a fish hook.
|Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 03/04/12 at 11:47 PM|
kind of like walking through a dream before you realize it isn't a dream and there's actually something that needs to be done.