macchiatoyou drank in theirmacchiato by crimsonletters
ridded slovenly of milk--
on thin layers of calm:
ups and downs never got this
JUNCTION 23pedestrian crossingJUNCTION 23 by crimsonletters
and stepping on
cracks to wish
the mother good
down the street
behind stop signs vandal, some
dried gum romance, a dead
cat or maybe
a rat— sidewalks
toward home stretch
like the traffic
go slow, go
slow and idle
INTERNSHIPRE: WORK ETHICSINTERNSHIP by crimsonletters
JAMMED IN COPIERS
MINDSET TOWARDS EAST,
CLOCKED A LITTLE LATE
HAVE A NICE DAY.
( IT HAS TO START SOMEHOW )
Milkteeth“We’re pregnant!”Milkteeth by crimsonletters
But you smile nonetheless and make a little sound of surprise. The good stuff because that’s what they want to hear. Not your opinion on how weird their announcement sounded. And the thought of a parasite— fetus— goddamn it, say it right: baby growing inside one of them. One of them is pregnant—not we.
“Six weeks in!”
Jesus, do they want you to do the maths.
Still you smile. All tiny white teeth—
(( around rosy nipple, her gasps mygod ))
And nod, because you’ve learned nodding at people suggests empathy. And that’s all you want to emanate at the moment.
You remember a song from when you were twenty-one and punk rock: St. Jimmy, Green Day
I'm the patron saint of the denial
“We were thinking, since you’re like family to us…”
Are you talking to me?
“Would you want to be the godfather?”
I'll give you