Dunkin Do-Nots

Sitting in Dunkin,
with coffee and a book,
when a 30-something guy approaches,
says, “He likes how I look”.

I smile,
say thank you,
attempt to return to my page,
but am ambushed with questions,
from a guy who should know better by his age.

“Married?
Have kids?
What do you do?
Have a boyfriend (or girlfriend)?
Is your cell phone new?”

Totally uncomfortable,
now providing amusement for the next table,
getting hit on is less flattering,
when the guy is socially unstable.

Not about to chug my coffee,
or surrender my seat,
I reply rather bluntly,
not missing a beat.

“Kids and marriage,
yet to be known.
My cell is crap,
I need a new phone.
I’ve had boyfriends, no girlfriends,
I don’t swing both ways.
You asked what I do,
here’s how I spend my days…

I’m a writer,
a blogger,
and during the next hour or two,
the subject of my next post,
will undoubtedly be about you!

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Smells Like Teen Spirit

He wanted to be Kurt Cobain,
except Cobain was already gone,
and he was still here,
though he didn’t want to be.

He made me his muse,
I didn’t want to be,
but I was.

So I played my piano,
and he played his guitar,
and we played Nirvana covers,
until midnight,
because we were 17,
and I had a curfew.

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In Your Eyes

I told you I liked you,
that was probably my first mistake,
but to be fair,
your hazel eyes are paralyzing,
and I shouldn’t be held responsible,
for what comes out of my mouth,
when i’m staring into them.

Then,
I almost told you I have a blog,
but realized,
that having “you”,
read about “you”,
is really going to screw up,
any last attempt I have,
at playing hard to get,
which at this point,
is becoming,
impossible.

That said,
I have a blog,
and this poem,
is,
about,
you.

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You Give Me Fever

Let me take you back,
about a month or two,
I had a horrendous cold,
though felt more like the flu.

I could barely leave the bathroom,
let alone comb my hair,
and needed to go to the pharmacy,
the situation was not at all fair.

Not cause of my fever,
or rising body heat,
but because I had dated someone,
who lives right down the street.

I had to risk it,
needed to get in my car,
knowing I could run into him,
while grossly pale and sans bra.

Fortunately dear friends,
it turned out okay,
I bartered with the gods of dating,
and they let me get away.

The moral of my story,
be careful where you do who you do,
cause a cold could be more than just a fever,
it could be social suicide too!

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The Sound of Silence

I hear music,
all the time,
even in silence,
there’s a melody.

What do you hear?
Is there any sound?
Cause we’ve been trying to write a song,
and no amount of auto tune,
is gonna make it sound good.

We really should pull the plug,
cause though there’s no commitment,
we both belong with a different band.

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Fish Out of Water

We met over coffee,
discussed everything,
from piano and bass,
to Danielewski and Bukowski.

As we sat,
it looked like some pages were there,
but when we tried to read,
we realized,
there was no story here.

And although,
we were not meant to be,
our paths were meant to cross,
because you had unknowingly,
helped me to see,
that I had gotten lost.

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Joy Division

Your digital piano,
is powered by electricity,
but without you,
it stands in silence.

You play every day.
You have to.
It kinda keeps you breathing.

Then one day,
mid-song,
the power goes out.

It’s happened before.

You call your electrician,
but this time,
he has trouble restoring the power.
You’ll have to wait.

In the the meantime,
you play your acoustic guitar,
and though you’re not very good,
you do what you can,
until you get the power back.

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Six Degrees of Separation

I can’t write about you,
simply because,
as anonymous as this blog is,
even anonymity has its limits.
Our ‘six degrees of separation’,
are more like ‘two’,
and ‘one’ of those degrees,
follows this blog.

The ironic part is,
I wanted to write something nice about you,
I just never wanted you to read it.

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Blind Spot

I’d say we went from 0 to 60,
but that’s a lie.
15, 30, and 45 definitely occurred.
I ignored the yield sign.
Where the fuck was the stop sign?
Kinda thought you were a yellow light.
You were red from the beginning.

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Rear View Mirror

To My Gut Instinct:
You have an impeccable record.
That said,
I’m sorry I’ve ignored you lately.
It was nothing personal,
which is literally the reason I ignored you.
Please remain impeccable,
even if from time to time,
I knowingly go against you.

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