Waves crash into hourglass
Life’s a beach with sand between your toes you harp
Or life’s a bitch when you step on something sharp
Ferris wheel lights when dad carrying you on his shoulders doesn’t meet the required height
Scoop of ice cream falling out the cone in slow motion, splat
Because my baby thought it was a upside-down head wearing a birthday hat
A child’s melting ice cream makes up the white lines in the street
Her ice cream cone the traffic cone
I kneel for my young and tell her the streets were paved with the heart of gold
To pick up the pieces I hustle man
Move my feet to the saxophone with the kazoo stuck to it
Kick a bar of gold to Kimchi
“Daddy, why did the free-range chicken cross the road?”
“To get to the other sides.”
I guess you didn’t like daddy’s raggedy ass peas?
“Everything else was hitting.”
“Did you say pass the peas like you use to do?”
I say pass the peas like we use to do.
“Whoa! Pass the peas like we use to do!”
I grab the pea from the microwave with my thumb and my index and passed it to the doctor at the head of the table. Bowed my head, said grace, “God please don’t let him ask for the deviled egg too.”
Ehh, what’s up doc’?
“Honey bunny, you know it’s bad table manners to talk with food in your mouth.”
I spit the carrot pieces in her hand
“Mr. Bunny, I’m sorry, forgive me for not having a petite appetite, but if I don’t take this off your plate I take off my white coat and throw it over your body.”
My boo caught the Holy Ghost just from hearing that
“Baby, we already made our Miracle On 34th Street and she need you present in her life. I’ll support you if you get sacked from your job for needing more than 2 weeks. I don’t like football no way and the effects of being sacked. What you have in the sac won’t affect what we have in the sack.”
Then I woke up.
I want a check sign next to a signed check. Number 2. I wanna walk in the bank like my shit don’t stank. 3:33. I want fuzzy handcuffs slapped on my wrist by Fine M. Banker for not taking off my hat and shades. You see, the hat for the one-eyed-monster I call Mike Wazowski. The shades to block sonny boy and little miss sunshine. But I’ll gladly take off my pants to show you I don’t have a gun in my pocket. But I do keep a pair of red striped white socks stuffed in my pants; Get your mind out the gutter. I know what you’re thinking. “Them there socks make up 9 inches of the 13 inches from earlier.” Yeah, you’re right …. because I was referring to my shoe size, not my penis, genius. And I know what you’re not thinking judging a book by its cover, “He gotta put ‘em somewhere since it’s a fashion faux pas to wear ‘em with Sperrys.” This reminds me of how much you and your girl got in common. My ensemble was the topic of our conversation last night on the phone. She asked, “What you got on?”
Navy blue shirt
Anchor print boxers
Translation: Wave goodbye to your relationship.
I typed H-E and paused by pressing the equal sign on the keyboard.
This was more than a blinking text cursor.
The other half was batting it’s eyelashes.
Was it flirting?
Flashing a lowercase L?
Or telling me I’m number one?
I pressed play by clicking the greater-than sign on the keyboard and proceeded to type A-R-T.
The word transformed into a picture of the word. It was a bigggggg heart. And I guess that’s what made the only thing move was the spinning beach ball, although, I wasn’t on the net.
The mouse was just eating out of my palm, but now I’m jerking it back and forth like some string cheese.
It came to as I bowed over the desk and the arrow shot straight for the heart but because the cursor is tilted it missed.
Now the cursor is a small hand L gesture. What?! How am I a loser? I’m not responsible for the arrow being slanted. Hell, I don’t even shoot my gun sideways. I’ll leave that to your modern-day Robin Hoods. I wouldn’t try to attack the bottom of the heart with my pointer even with the heart looking like a bottom, if I may point out. I may cum across as anal paying attention to de-tails like that but fuck it!
Again, why should I have to rest an L on my forehead when there is already an S curled up there? Who am I? Clark Kent at The Daily Planet. If I throw up L then I gotta throw another L up. Laughing like shit ‘cause that’s like the bat-signal for you-know-who to roll on over to my cubicle, batting her eyelashes like Barbara Gordon. Aight, you keep doing that and your lashes gone get stuck in your eye, gone be blind as a bat. Aight, enough clowning around, let’s show my computer love like I-T.
We caps-locked lips. She lifted her foot off the ground. “Damn, her leg looks like an L.” My S curl became erect. Still a little crooked though.
Now the cursor is the rewind button, which is the less-than sign, neighboring the number 3.
We tilt our heads to the right when we’re trying to understand something.
To the beat.
This is our song. Let us have the floor, please.
Door. The two O’s are double doors. The D-R is doctor. I don’t wanna walk into this hospital by myself. I need the sup in support. I need the port in support. A greeter who never harbored any ill feelings in our relationship and left my side. Your vessel of love is my safe haven. The reef in re-fuge. The sea in se-cur. I-T-Y. I thank you … for being a Wonder Woman and not a wandering whoa man did you see her …
Use to spell team I-A-M-E until my WW underscored the importance of U-N-I together. I achieved more working as a unit than I would have laboring at it alone. Is it baby or ba-by ‘cause some men leave when they hear the words “I’m pregnant.” Talking about they going to the store. Say they going to the store when muthafuckas like me can only find closed stores because they’re new and they need a customer to cut the purple ribbon for their grand opening. I ran before they put the oversized scissors in my hand, but while I was sprinting, I was looking back, unaware of traffic signs. My breast snapped the finish line ribbon. If I paid attention to the blueness of the Parking sign and the redness of the Stop sign I would have known purple lie ahead. Future turn on the lights.
I wrote this on Fanny Blankers 100th birthday, but I didn’t speed write. Her ghost in the wind blew out the candles. Ghost in the shell Donatello. Ghost in the machine Address Book Killer. Yellow pages logo when she walked her fingers across my waves. White pages logo my W extends her reach to make the line for the H sharp. Her name not Barbara. She wears her cape in the front.
Do I have to remind you she’s a Wonder Woman whose got it all from A to Z? But they trying to make the ampersand the 27th letter again. We championing the first, fourteenth, and fourth letters. 2nd Place and 3rd Place want some shit that looks like a ribbon. I blame the motivational speakers. They told me to take CAN’T out my vocabulary. I blame my grandma. She told me to say SIR as a sign of respect. These muthafuckas gave me CANCER!!!
Why the ribbon worm had to be pink doeeeeeee?
I expelled my proboscis because I’m being attacked. I’m under an immense amount of stress. I’m not multiplying. I’m breaking apart. If you don’t put me back in the water in the next few seconds there will be a ribbon in the sky, a worm in the dirt, a ribbon in the sky, a worm in the dirt, a ribbon in the … , a worm in the …
This fucking black cloud still follows me around too Em.