I sat in front of Sarah Palin
And as she complained of pain I told her,
Again, how I regret having been interested
In some women the way I was interested in them.
How I could kill myself.
How I could simply die of shame.
Of course, I wouldn’t kill myself.
To me, my self is sacred.
I am a relic. I am a tooth.
There are some people like that.
When you have loved many.
sometimes, on hindsight, it should happen:
Like the let-goer of the weapon:
The hero cum fool of the wrong fight.
I figure Sar. Pe. is a cool customer
To talk to, cos she listens and laughs
And when you are in the process of
Cleaning out your closet
You need someone to laugh at you
And laugh with you — either or both.
Cos you deserve to be laughed at; laughed with.
Cos you’re laughing at your past.
To come to terms with it. Starts slow,
So, you women whom I frothed for,
As the toller of the amusement park,
Touched me where it hurts later, those who
Condemned me in the dark,
I know you have forgotten me, that you’ve moved on
And to me, too, you are anecdotes now. Anecdotes and chips
That I pick out my pocket throw out to like fish.
It is a way of saying you are ‘man’. It is a way of rubbing
Where the vague shadows linger. Where tender flesh is grown.
cos you use your finger. Cos I dream of home in a future.
I’m alone. On the phone.
Skin screens my veins. My tender bone.
Reading this poem, 4 comments have been made by 3 intrigued readers. Usually, I “ok” all comments that are made, but here 3 of the comments were made to unduly injure my profile.
I expect people to maintain a certain decency level when submitting comments.
I have edited the first stanza — since it is not right by an individual (that was initially) mentioned in this verse that she gets objectified and battered by the illiteracy of others.