Divorced Men

A poem I wrote last night.

Divorced Men:

I miss you
You always smelled like flowers
Like a woman
I wanted that scent
so I could breathe it in every day and feel you
picture you
put in on and become you
I still want to become you
You're perfect
Your dirty blond hair
Your moon-shaped glasses
Your shoulder bag
Your salads
Your smile
Your quick wit
Those rebellious ears that stick out
Just like you do
In a crowd
The freckles and tiny hairs on your arms
Your slim fingers
So perfect
So immaculate
So precise
Your forest green cardigans and white dress shirts
Your tweed jacket and pants
Your ancient blackberry
Your voice
Smooth as milk and honey
Your exercises
Your books
Your mind
Your ring
Which you no longer wear
What do divorced men do with their rings?
Do they make love to them?

Ugly choir girl

Okay, I lied.  One more.

Ugly choir girl:

She always sits in front of me
Face full of zits
Frizzy tight curls
Tacky clothes
Thin as a pencil
You're so greasy
You're pizza
You're macaroni and cheese

Why are all the girls in this choir so hideous?
I get sick to my stomach
when I look at you
you are the smell of sickening sweet
an arts major
insecure
fishing for notes
following the leader

And worst of all
you're blocking my view of him
You negate the bliss I feel when I see his face
He's looking at me now
But you can't let him see me
I think he loves me
But you're blocking his view

Who else would he want in this section?
And then I glance behind me

Big busty girl
Blond greasy hair
Bangles
Eighties chic
Blue eyes
Brown coat
Big tits
Red pouting lips
She's not ugly
But by logic she should be

And I realize I'm a fool
It's her
He can't stop looking at her

I'm getting annoyed
He can't control his head
Always turned to my corner of the room
What does she think of this?

But she's gone
I won't see her until tomorrow
Was he looking at someone else?
At me?
I ponder the mystery
Leaving choir and the pizza-faced girl
with a smirk on my face

Maybe I'm not an ugly choir girl

Spring Cabana

I decided to make a different post for whenever I post poetry.  This is probably the one I'm most proud of of the poetry I'm posting today...

Spring Cabana:

Like a holiday in a person
The ultimate diplomat
Gilded with tweed
Won the Euclid and the Fermat
Child prodigy
And a perfect gentleman
A perfect gentleman

You were Atlantis
when I first met you
I was so terrified
that I couldn't impress you
You were so perfect
So beautiful
You smelled like flowers

Had to know what the smell was
What flower?
Where are you from?
What are you?  Who are you?
A breath of fresh air?
An angel, a fairy?
A devil, a liar?

You packed up your Viper's tongue
Your lyre
Your childish analogies
It seems you have a taste for
skinny pale intellectuals
with unusual but not improbable hair colours
And now you're in Florence

Did I scare you away?