Weird Weekends

They went upstairs to fuck
and we pretended we hadn’t been listening to their
unspoken conversation the entire
night;
an incessant ceiling fan and two busted light bulbs
cast a ghostly pallor on all our vacant faces.

We’d been alive, alive, alive
mere minutes before,

but suddenly we were zombies
and sleep was the only way to wake
the walking dead.

She gave you head like it was
nothing
but you couldn’t be rid of the image of
that other girl in your bed
and you were breathless –

Wait, that was only my fantasy;

you’re a vision of ecstasy
and I am a recipe for disaster.

Plastered beyond comprehension,
they’re all in their corners
flirting with the border
of getting lucky,

and I’m alone in my corner,
watching them all like an astronomer through a magnifying glass.

my observational stunt is to look through another poorly rolled
blunt
and use it like a telescope;

kaleidoscopic
misanthropic
completely off topic
pocket picking
finger licking
penny pinching
indecision,
and still I feel the need to scream as I begin to choke on my meekness.

I stared into the same flickering
lighter flame
for hours
until it revealed my greatest weakness:

That I could rupture an artery on this bottle every
night
for an entire season,
and still never regret all the
moments wasted when I’m wasted
and broken.

Because it can never be the same for me
as it is for them.

I lost you in October
and was still crying in December;

motherfucker, I’ve woken up in so many parking lots
I can’t remember
that the miracle of the season
was never getting a parking ticket.

Listen.
This drunken
senseless
dick-waving competition
is never going to come out in any one’s advantage.

Listen.
I don’t want to be the earpiece for your
political tangent
religious diatribe
breakup anthem
or verbal dose of cyanide.

I thought I just needed company
but your boyfriend is right across the opalescent tier of this old house
and you promised we’d fuck in 20 years
when our youthful,
less than useful,
ideas are preserved by a paper-thin
fraying rubber band
and we’re probably just as lonely
as we are right now.

So I’ll hold onto this rocket-ship couch for dear life;

It is my magic carpet through the off-kilter night,
and I’m bound for waters clear
enough
to dip in my inebriated toes
and drown a happy
man.

Willie Watt
8/15/14

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3 thoughts on “Weird Weekends

  1. “and I’m alone in my corner,
    watching them all like an astronomer through a magnifying glass.”

    I think this part is my favorite!

    Great poem Mr. Da Kid!

    Welcome to the pilots!!

    😀

  2. “kaleidoscopic
    misanthropic
    completely off topic
    pocket picking
    finger licking
    penny pinching
    indecision,”

    That’s my favorite part. This is good stuff. Welcome to the Pilots!

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