No, We Met
A girl raps shyly to herself
above her English muffin.
All you go around is remembering
how one commercial kicks in
with a four-minute harpsichord solo
or an old professor anxiously
declined the eggplant parm.
Uh, it’s from the nightshade
family—I’ll pass. Around you
gone. One day contains and one
day is the cranberry health mix:
full stop. Showers and stairwells.
Throwing away a Christmas present
once you hit the opposite coast.
I serve my guests toast instead
of tortilla chips and they’re
down with that. O to know what secret
nicknames people give you
at the gym. To walk with a hot light bulb
in your mouth, trying not to swallow
or bite down. I know how it sounds,
but it really does help to remember
how you do want
to feel. I didn’t know what a poem
was until I’d read a thousand poems
and forgotten I would say about
nine hundred and four.
Everybody Here Either
Please observe all means necessary
to keep us all safe
is what the building owner wanted us
to notice on the sheet.
Spoon around in the ancient grains.
Questions of personality
choices resolved by color
choices. Chewie roars whether
the joke is old or not.
Sadness isn’t something you can notice
away. My friend peeling the labels:
“I’m thirty-one, I thought I’d be way
different.” The thunderstorm plays
itself out, that’s what it wants, age-
ncy of assemblage, momentary nature
of the screaming underneath
all that quote unquote
MIKE YOUNG is the author of three books: We Are All Good If They Try Hard Enough (Publishing Genius 2010, poems), Look! Look! Feathers (Word Riot Press 2010, stories), and Sprezzatura (Publishing Genius 2014, poems). He writes for HTMLGIANT, runs NOÖ Journal and Magic Helicopter Press, and lives in Northampton, MA. Find him online at http://mikeayoung.tumblr.com.