Sunday poetry

Monthlies at the Morning Star

The plans have been laid through December.
I gotta ask, Bianca,
Alexis, Sandra, how can you commit
so far in advance? I don’t even enjoy
telling you at three thirty in the afternoon
where I’ll be at six.
Don’t you ever get disturbed
watching past seasons of 60 Minutes all day
and come night feigning old age by drinking
an eleven dollar bottle of Pinot
chugging a spring roll
and consuming Ken Burns documentaries until the point of bleed?
Don’t you get disturbed? Bianca,
are you sometimes confused
for that porn star who’s angle is to be hairy? Bianca,
are you that porn star who’s angle is to be hairy?
I was in a community, once,
and panicked outright, locking myself in the dressing room
of a Baby Gap.

~ Joseph Goosey


For more absurdist poetry that even vacuum cleaners enjoy, visit Clutching at Straws.