28 August 2006

law book poem

25 August 2006

all grown up

He said
Well Bran
I have news
I am getting married
And want you to be the best man.
Of course, there is some dispute over what to call you…
I said
Call me
the best man
[and does this mean I don’t have to wear a bridesmaid dress?]
He said
Something black
To match the tuxes is alright.

-I’ll be conservative, I promise
But you know I’ll have French lingerie underneath.

17 August 2006

undergraduate infidelity

I took the elevator 3 floors up in my freshman dormitory, and walked down the boys’ hall with its oh-so-recognizable smell. I knocked on your door and covered your peep-hole with my hand. You opened up in 5 seconds, with that goofy grin on your face. Your hand tucked awkwardly behind your back, you said
-I have a surprise for you…
He doesn’t know I’m here, but then again he doesn’t know I’m not here.
You pull out a pint of ice cream, half melted from your sub-par garage sale minifridge, and present it to me. It’s soupy and I have to eat it out of a cup, but it’s perfect. I return your exagerrated smile and offer a little squeak as barter.
-It’s my favorite.
- I know.
I go into your room and we sit on the too-small futon; I start eating the ice cream with a plastic spoon and you start playing with your watch. It’s dark in here, because I like it that way. It’s light enough that I can see you looking at me with your clear eyes. It’s light enough that I can see what is going on, what is really going on. It’s dark, because I like it that way.
-Where is your roommate?
- At bible study.
You put your arm around me, and who cares what the conversation is? He doesn’t know you are holding me, but then again he doesn’t know you aren’t holding me. I feel comfortable, and happy, and safe. You tell me about your new poems, I tell you about my geography exam. We don’t talk about him.
Its getting late and I have French in the morning, so I say I have to go. I stand up and toss my hair back over my shoulder. As I turn to the door, you say
-If he asks you where you were tonight, it wouldn’t be lying if you forgot to mention the ice cream.

12 August 2006

a completely unnecessary poem

Summer having sex with mirrors
the only thing worse than a man who can’t give an orgasm is a man who can’t have one
(really really have one)
with mirrors is clean/dirty fun
did I say alone? I meant to.
Oh hell, the kid gloves are off.
start the races, boys, I’m moving up in the world.
I better hear it from you. Say it like you mean it. Feel it this time.
Whats my motivation?

If my life were a ride at Disney World

The sign would say
Warning: not for the faint of heart, those suffering from stability. No pregnant women.

I think its about time I febreeze my large vascular organ
(I think the most terrible phrase ever invented is ‘alienation of affection’)
oh spite, oh gracious.