Saturday, April 30, 2011

Poem 30/30 Absurdities


I have written 34 poems and 2 short stories about a man I knew for 27 days.

I continue to mistake hope for actuality.

People talk to me. Then I get a paycheck.

Most days, I am asked for directions at least twice.

I want someone to love me even though I don’t love him.

My lower Manhattan neighborhood is inaccessible. All roads lead to Chinatown. I continue to eat take-out from the Golden Forest on Grand Street.

I am saddened by a gaggle of East Village Mommies waiting for the bus with their blonde kids. The prettiest Mommies talk only to one another.

I lie about my age; if I told the truth, everyone would tell me how good I look.

30 Poems in 30 days. Some guys I know always write 5 a day and no one makes a fuss over it.

This. What I’m doing right now. This. This moment, which is melting as I tap nonsense into keys just so…

Last night at the Nuyorican. Miguel Algarin took my performance piece seriously and defended my honor. He forgot he used to throw me out.




© puma perl, 4/30/11