Proofs of Purchase

The following thoughts have filtered from a mind that has been oversaturated with images, screams, romance, text, and sounds since The Carter Administration. If you are not satisfied, then I recommend a double chocolate brownie from Starbucks with a tall bold of the day.

Monday, January 11, 2010


Most don’t believe that I lived with you
For seventeen years we danced together
I dreamed of exiting stage left
Interstate 80 was my favorite destination
You were so vexing and tempting
I hated that you were only aware of the rusty grill in your backyard
I hated the same flat grassland dress that you wore
Sometimes you dared to wear apple trees on your green blouse
Ears of corn even
It killed me that you always smiled in my face
But you hated that I was an African
Not even a nigger, mind you
But an African wearing Calvin Klein Jeans
You hated that I could Speak and Spell
Better than my toys
You hated that the fam kicked it to Our Lady
That was your Garden of Eden
Pure with Roman Vanilla Extract
You made up for it sometimes though
Friendly families open long distance tables
Tickled with fruit pies, brownies, potatoes, without a trace of romaine
You blew summer breezes that whispered into my ear
To pick strawberries and toast the sunset with a waffle cone
But after years of buying music and driving endlessly
Wishing that you would go away
I did what every man tells their first love
Fuck off

No comments:

Post a Comment