it's too darn hot

I have this alarm clock
it's retro looking
it's seafoam green
and it has a picture
of a drive-in movie sign
on the face

It's new place
is in the bathroom
because our bathroom clock
is broken

so this clock sits
terribly out of place
on my countertop
in my bathroom

everytime my cleaning lady
cleans my bathroom
she accidentally
sets the alarm on this clock

forward to 1:50 pm
today

minding my own business
typing away
talking to Deirdre

HOLY FUCK!
oh, it's just the alarm clock
Jesus Christ!

for a moment there
I thought I was in
Baghdad
in a crowded marketplace
and someone felt the need
to bang on the brass pots
to attract potential customers

As I just told Deirdre
the weather outside
can best be summed up by saying

It's the kind of heat
that conjures up visions
of sex in a cheap 70s roadside motel
with no air
wood panneling
and polyester drapes
- just without the sex.

my hair keeps growing

the rain has stopped falling

my grass still crunches

Saffy is still Lucifer

Life is still going on

and apparently

so am I...

Rain

and the rain comes
fill my pool
water my grass
thank you, jesus
if thou exists
someone is responsible
for this liquid miracle

my grass crunches
when i walk on it
it stands, frozen
like the day
it was last mowed
tire tracks

today i raked
the clippings from my bushes
i trimmed them

as i raked
the blades of grass
broke in half
brittle

sad, really
like the lion king
when scar takes over

everything else
in this area
is fucking green
just not my grass

the neighbors grass is greener
mine is just dead
why me?

gram is sick
very sick
i'm numb

she needs strength
to fight

shes never had to fight
seems ridiculous
that we should urge her to now
at 88 years old

never sick in 88 years
once in the hospital
gave birth.

broke her wrist
once
thats the worst thing
thats ever happened to her

then comes february
collapsed at home

she fought, then

this time it's different
this time the virus
is in control

when it rains
it pours

It's only hair

I have decided
that soon
a drastic change
must be made

my hair

in November
I discovered
the straightener

changed my life

now this hair
I cannot cut
until after July
because of Arsenic

directors orders

but then
once all is said and done

where do I go?

I can continue to grow
and eventually attain my goal
of hair like Orlando Bloom

or I can do something else
of which I've also never done

BALD

Shaved smooth

absolutely no hair at all

I've always wanted to try it
could be fun

so be prepared
for the new tresses
or lack-thereof

whats it going to be??

and in the end
it will grow back
it's only hair

Penguins

A Mexican newspaper reports that bored Royal Air Force pilots stationed on the Falkland Islands have devised what they consider a marvelous new game. Noting that the local penguins are fascinated by airplanes, the pilots search out a beach where the birds are gathered and fly slowly along it at the water's edge. Perhaps ten thousand penguins turn their heads in unison watching the planes go by, and when the pilots turn around and fly back, the birds turn their heads in the opposite direction, like spectators at a slow-motion tennis match. Then, the paper reports, "The pilots fly out to sea and directly to the penguin colony and overfly it. Heads go up, up, up, and ten thousand penguins fall over gently onto their backs."
Audobon Society Magazine

February 12, 2004

He writes me poetry. I'm prety sure at one point in the relationship that I expressed how truly disinterested in poetry I am. Apparently I should have repeated myself. Now I have to pretend to like his poetry because it's the only thing that he believes he's truly good at. So he'll call me;

"You've inspired me to write another poem."
"Really, how did I do that?" I ask that because I want to take notes - to assure that I don't ever do that again.
"Want to hear it?" he'll ask.
Christ.
"Sure," I say, teeth clenched.

So onward we go, him reading the poem, me holding the phone away from my ear, fishing around for a cigarette. When he finishes, like clockwork, he asks
"So was that better than the last poem?"

Well, who are we kidding? I didn't pay attention to the last poem you wrote me or the other 17 poems before that.

"Oh my God, are you kidding me? It's great! I loved it!"
"Really?"
"Yeah, seriously, you should be a writer, Josh." I always add that because the gays love to hear that they have significantly more career options than straight men - ones they can always 'fall back on'. We can be chefs if the job at the office doesn't work out. We can be a personal shopper if that accounting position is canned.

But poetry. Why poetry? Why couldn't he be a shoemaker?

"Mark, you've inspired me so I made you these sandals" Great!

Because lets face it, thats what I want in a boyfriend - footwear.