Tiny Zaps to Your Already Electric Brain
I want to have known the term
Before myriads and myriads of
Tiny zaps permeated
Parts of my brain not covered
In Grade 11 Bio
When your beast slowly walked over to me,
All covered in ozone, all
Wolf-dog like, panting after
A recent kill, his first one in years.
I wanted to listen to
The rustling of the dog’s heart through his fur.
I placed my ear right against
His carotid. So much white noise.
We may have been biting on different tongues,
But it wouldn’t have mattered
Anyway – we were going
So later you asked me if
I had an electric brain
And a heart apparatus.
So maybe I’m full of shit
But I think I now know the correct terminology:
Loving you is as easy
As pissing on my own two fingers.
The One About Death
When I was five I discovered Santa.
I had a pretty good hunch he wasn’t real.
So I would whisper my Christmas wishlist under my breath,
Just so that I could call my parents out on that bullshit.
I had a big enough ego to know
I’d been a really good girl. A good enough girl
To not only deserve all my Legos,
But also a real, pocket-sized,
Dinosaur (which I knew wouldn’t happen
Unless the magic man was real,
And boy did I deserve an ancient
When I was five I discovered death.
That’s also when I found a stray cat
That would have died if it wasn’t fed.
It was a good pet for twelve years after that.
When I was five I discovered god.
And like with Santa, the whole setup
Wasn’t convincing and disappointing that someone
Would lie to you like that in the first place.
I went back to being terrified of death.
It seemed like an unfair end to things.
Twenty-two years later it still seems
Like and unfair end to things.
And I still think I deserve my raptor.
Life Imitates Art
I am resolved now
I have finally resolved to grow and to groom
My pubic hair
I shall shape into (in the following temporal progression):
“The Chaplin” (also known as, “The Dictator”)
“The Rudyard Kipling”
“The Mark Twain”
and perhaps even “The Tolstoy”
They will keep me warm at night
They will keep the sharks at bay
They will whisper that I am okay
And while my tender lady skin itches in confusion
I shall scratch it with determination
Day after day
That simple discomfort
Will ascertain that I am becoming
A better poet
Knees meeting pavement –
It’s not as much of a misfortune
As it is a way of life.
When the fear of heights,
As low as six feet, is competing
With what some call bravery.
Knees kissing pavement –
Kind of makes you slow down and marvel
Just how hard things could get.