Wednesday, September 1, 2010


I once knew a guy had the heart of a broken poet.
You mean the broken heart of a poet.
No, I don’t.
He would say weird shit that didn’t make sense,
but seemed like it should.
And it always made me smile.

Screw you
he’d say, and stop patronizing me.
You wait. One day it will come out
just right. That Poe or Rilke or whoever
would get his shit together inside him.
One day I'd hear it the way it was meant,
and when that happened, all the shadows
drinking at my broken bar
would finally pay their bill.
We'd all get it like a strong FM station.
I'd try not to roll my eyes,
but believed him a little more each time.

See if you smile then,
mother fucker.