'Pierre' and one other sad poem

I've been thinking in poems recently. Why? Good question, self. Maybe because I've been training for a marathon and this process has summoned the sense memories of unbridled emo rage that powered me to the all-district cross country team in high school.

Maybe because of [gestures vaguely at human civilization in decline].

Maybe neither, maybe both.

Anyway, it feels slightly embarrassing to be a 39-year-old man writing poems. But like it or not, I've written them. So I might as well force my friends, family, former colleagues, and complete strangers to bear witness to whatever weird shit I'm going through.

pierre

the first time around
i watched the good place
and i smiled so smugly at michael mckean
that would never be me, could never be me
too much did i love
the taste of my own chick-fil-a

this time around
i'm parked on the shoulder
of ohio state route two twenty-four
my flashers are on, can't feel my fingers
too much did i love
the boy who walked into the road

If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, help is available. Call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, or text HOME to 741741 to reach the Crisis Text Line. For information on how to support the Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio, click here.

five stars

ordered myself a brand new cage
heard these things were
heard these things were all of the rage
email said it was at my door and
you reminded me what i bought it for
walked out in my shorts and socks
wishing you could help me carry the box
one reviewer said
one reviewer said five stars,
but my body chafes against the bars
i crawl in when the world's too loud
get zoomies when you let me out
outside the cage, a big pile of midden
helps me to hide what
helps me to hide what i want to stay hidden
but mostly i just love the way that it shines in the sun