The Poetry Marathon

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Sometimes that hour drive between us feels insurmountable. Like

COVID moved us states apart before I did that. You’re stuck in the stifling

heat of the kitchen sacrificing your body for a

year’s worth of pay and then some in a single summer. I miss your

laugh and ocean side walks and wanting to hold your hand.

Ever wonder what we could have been? Could have felt? I’ll keep

recommending Tucker & Dale vs Evil to pretend you’re near.

Text messages

Good luck this weekend! I hope it goes as uneventfully as possible! = I wish I could come see you after the busy season ends

I hope the tourist don’t send back their plates and tip the staff well = Tourists are assholes

Man, I miss the ocean = Man, I miss the ocean

It’s definitely a change to be down here = Texas is almost like another country from Maine

Maybe we can reschedule that video chat? = I would rather curl up with you and watch a movie

I intentionally didn’t watch the movie we were going to = I wish we could be together

An Incomplete & Out of Order List of Songs That Have A Hold On Me

– Just A Kiss by Lady A

– The Shake by Neal McCoy

– Teenage Dream by Katy Perry

– Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Off Her Clothes by Panic! At The Disco

– Fireflies by Owl City

– Why Don’t You Kiss Her by Jesse McCartney

– Fantasy Baseball at the End of the World by John K Samson

Remember that time you were a Beard and and you wanted him to actually be into you? Like actually factually, really into you as more than Just Friends? Turns out you were just a closeted trans dude whose kinda sorta mostly a guy but of course you had no idea that that was the case. You only knew that he should fall for you and it would have worked because his family really liked you and you’d become related to your best friend. You wouldn’t put the pieces together for another 10 years.

It wouldn’t have worked out in the end though. Turns out he’s an elitist Theatre Gay Stuck in Community Theater.

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I am the poet laureate of the beach just before dawn.

Of the moon and the tide dancing- lovers destined to never touch.

Each wave that laps at the sand is a cry to hold the moon;

longing to wrap their arms around her.

Weekly Gender

Monday: The smell of WD40 and salty sand in December

Tuesday: Ocean spray on your face and the sound of an old park swing

Wednesday: A broken squeaky toy that only squeaks when you squeeze just right

Thursday: Piles of fresh cut grass and the rattle of pill bottles

Friday: The smell of McDonald’s nuggets in a brand new backpack and losing an earring down the drain

Saturday: A shower at the perfect temperature and the versatility of potato

Sunday: A smoothie because no matter how you mix it, I’m a fruit

A List of Intrusive Thoughts My Brain Deemed More Important Than Writing Tonight

– That text asking if you remember P from high school is totally going to be telling you another ex boyfriend died

– Whatever happened to N who married that guy you almost hooked up with the first weekend of college? She hasn’t been on social media in a long time

– That old ass Dierks Bently video with the dated blonde fauxhawk? Yeah, that’s not Dierks, that’s J and you should totally panic about him being around even though you live halfway across the country from his last known city

– That cute person you met on Tinder a couple days ago? They’re totally ghosting you. They’re not observing Shabbat because they would have said they’re observant instead of dissapearing

– What do you mean we shouldn’t be browsing Facebook and Nextdoor for free stuff for the house we don’t even have yet?

– You’re behind by X poems, you should just throw in the towel

– Spend time researching all the North American cryptids. You don’t need to write when you can learn

– Fuck you

– Spend time researching walk in cares in your area that you already did a week ago but at an hour in which they are all closed so you can’t call and verify information

Hey, three out of three

people deserve happiness.

That includes you too.

I Feel Like There’s a Poem In Singing ‘Stick Season’ as I Drive Across The Colorado River While Lake Travis is at 40% Capacity On The Coolest Summer of the Rest of Our Lives While Realizing I Likely Won’t See Another Season of the Sticks Again

but I can’t quite get it out.

Meeting Mothman in the Coffee Shop

Is that.. Is that really him? Tall wings of luscious.. Is it feathers? Or fur? Either way, I thought he would be taller and yet I can’t look away from him or his bicycle brake eyes scanning the menu in search of today’s selection. Those fur-slash-feathers seem to suck the light around him like they’re a black hole I would gladly swim through. Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone’s favorite Cryptid wouldn’t be interested in my scaley claws. Or a body that’s 40 feet long while my legs are as long as a croc’s. Besides, how could I invite a glorious moth to visit me in my home under a lake? Fur-slash-feathers can’t be comfortable when soaking wet. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh Shit. He’s walking over towards me. Okay, deep breaths to hide your excitement. Just act normal. You can do that. You’re a regular old cryptid and can act like one. Yeah, I got this. I’m just going to look at… that poster! Yeah! The… handwashing poster… shit. He’s a fellow cryptid, it’ll be fine… Wait, what is fame made him stuck up? And he gets mad about me being In His Space? Whatever, poster, yeah. Oh, wait, that’s my order…

“Oh! Did we order the same drink? I’m sorry, you were here first so this is definitely yours.”

He’s talking to me?! Fuck, answer him! Quick! “Hah, I guess so. Not a whole lot of cryptids get their coffee Dread Free around here.”

“Yeah, which is weird because not everyone wants Dread. I’m Mothman by the way. You must be Bear Lake Monster?” He knows who I am?! What?? “I’m on my way to that new exhibit at the museum about what humans think cryptid zoology is like… Would you like to join me? After my coffee is ready of course.”

He knows who I am? FuckFuckFuck. Act cool. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”