It's been a little too long since I've straight-up posted a poem, hasn't it? In case you agree, here's a poem I've been picking at for a couple of weeks now. I'm working on setting it to music, so I'll tell you when that's done and on BadMovieCommercialSpace.
When I imagine kissing somebody for the first time,
I always imagine us in a kitchen--
and of course the window is open
and the sun is just about to go down
and some sweet bread that needs a lot of time
just went into the oven,
even though, in my life,
most kisses in kitchens
occur at house parties,
and are bourbon stale
I was daydreaming on the 66 bus,
groceries hammocking my feet, when
an old man with small glasses and no neck
told a girl with thick sunglasses across the aisle
that she looked very good today,
and that he hoped she had a good day.
He was smiling like someone
who has never heard of pornography.
By the trees at Brighton and Cambridge,
the pigeons were chasing each other,
and I watched one of them fly away, as steady
as the first bubble from the bottom of a pot.