I do have another project I want to do, which is a winter game show called “What Time Is It?” where you look out the window and try to guess what time it is and you’re like, “Oh, it’s probably midnight,” but it’s always 5 p.m.
Oh hey Peyto Lake, good to see you again! The cutest wolf-shaped lake in the world,
you have only
taking a picture
and looking at the
image and staring
in the mirror and
looking at your
you don’t get to see
the way your eyes
light up when you talk
and you can never
see how beautiful
you look when you
it’s really is kinda
sad that never
actually seen yourself
but I can promise you
I will be here everyday
to tell you what i see
We were watching the episode of How I Met Your Mother where Robin admits to being a stalker, so I admitted to Will that in high school I had his class schedule memorized so I could casually bump into him multiple times a day. His reaction: “Really? I thought we just happened to run into each other a lot!” Oh boys. So oblivious.
And also: “I didn’t even have my schedule memorized. I had to check it multiple times a week!”
Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don’t regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the living room couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering
any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.
"but listen, woman--"
of the Yiddish, not the Jewish. But I may well wonder whether there is
santonico quae tecta salo ; quae nota genonis
Spread your legs,
the wind blew
I've taken my fun where I've found it;
My manager asked me to create a poster for our vacation day giveaway this year. Obviously I found a way to work my love of cats into it.