Tuesday, March 12, 2024

poem

 Jeffrey Parks

I’ve figured out Jeff

He’s got a chip on his shoulder 

The size of the moon

He loves you like 

The perfect weighted blanket.

He puts himself on ledges

Where, if he loses balance,

Somebody else falls.

He loves you like 

An ancient earthquake 

A thousand miles away

That tremors the wine glass

Half sipped on your coffee table, right now.

He believes in unzipping himself

To prove there’s nothing 

Inside except for what you put there.

He chews quickly 

Because taste is a luxury.

He considers loneliness

The apogee of human connection.

He’s an idiot, a fool,

A mystic in a dark cave

Saving all his unlit candles. 

He loves like a blinded bull

Raging through the streets of Pamplona

He never stops. 

He fears getting caught

Doing nothing, becoming no one.

He thinks life is a debt

And love has to be earned.  

It’s all so obvious now

I’ve got it all figured out

Wish it hadn’t taken so long

But now it’s time

To go be someone else


3/11/24

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