This is the worst grocery store
I’ve ever barely been able to navigate.

Two people ask me to leave.
They’re important around here,
and I’m just forty feet tall,
writing horror stories about the human heart as I move,
and winning championship brawls with cereal boxes.

You should have been there.
It was a bad night for the ages,
a horrible morning for the waiting room music
weight of the world.

Then it’s three.
Bet at least one of them
could lose a whole weekend
haunting filthy movie theaters with me.

Then it’s four.

I’m slowing down.
I’m talking to you.
I’m laughing at your jokes.
Making fun of the Christmas presents
you’re buying for your parents.

And I’m not crazy enough to imagine
you can hear me five state lines over.

And I stop walking altogether.
And everyone has every right to be pissed off.

And I put my last fifty in my teeth.
And I ask the crowd to guess which celebrity I am.

08/18/2013

Posted on 08/18/2013
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