Here is one of mine:
COFFEE-SHOP TRANSACTION
Beautiful girl –
You are beautiful.
You make coffee at this coffee shop
(Because you work here)
And your cheeks are dusted
With coffee brown freckles
And your hair is blond
I must express my fondness for you,
Nay-
My love.
I must speak with you.
But how?
Of course:
Under the guise of a coffee-shop transaction.
I will ask for tap water
Because I am poor and lowly;
I do not have cash on me right now.
And because coffee is bitter.
******************************
I have returned
In near tears.
My experience was thus:
First, I assessed my person
In the bathroom mirror.
I was indeed looking good.
And particularly svelte.
I loitered by the sugars
So you had ample time to observe me.
At last I willed myself to the counter.
And I said, quite naturally,
“Hello.�
And you replied tenderly,
“What can I get for you?�
(Our first words!)
I admit I was stunned by your beauty
For five to six seconds.
But then I was not, and I said, in my sweetest voice,
“May I have an ice water, please?�
And you grabbed a plastic cup
And uttered the words which still burn in my heart:
“That’s twenty-five cents.�
No! I was broken, but I kept my equanimity.
“Oh, I don’t have twenty-five cents, thank you, bye.�
I said and walked away.
Tomorrow I will return with coin in hand,
And you will be mine.
Poemsssss
Moderated By: mods
Here is another.
MY BODY
I knew this girl; she lived in the trailer down the road with her half brother who was twenty-four years older than her. She was fun, I guess. We used to just sit around and shred grass. One day we were sitting around, and she said, “I love you,� and I said “Okay,� because I knew it was only for my body. I used to do twenty or thirty push-ups a day in my prime. Sometimes I would deadlift a tire. And this girl, she would wrap her arms around my back and coo as she touched my taut flanks. Sometimes she would pretend to be sad and ask to hug me, undoubtedly to feel my perfect sternum against her forehead. Poor girl, my body made her weep. We used to just sit around and she would spontaneously weep, and I knew she was imagining me in tiger-print spandex, launching a javelin over Mt. Olympus.
I wonder: Won’t I ever be loved for my inner beauty?
MY BODY
I knew this girl; she lived in the trailer down the road with her half brother who was twenty-four years older than her. She was fun, I guess. We used to just sit around and shred grass. One day we were sitting around, and she said, “I love you,� and I said “Okay,� because I knew it was only for my body. I used to do twenty or thirty push-ups a day in my prime. Sometimes I would deadlift a tire. And this girl, she would wrap her arms around my back and coo as she touched my taut flanks. Sometimes she would pretend to be sad and ask to hug me, undoubtedly to feel my perfect sternum against her forehead. Poor girl, my body made her weep. We used to just sit around and she would spontaneously weep, and I knew she was imagining me in tiger-print spandex, launching a javelin over Mt. Olympus.
I wonder: Won’t I ever be loved for my inner beauty?
