21st century poetry

April 4, 2014

He told me
he would break
vegan
to kiss me.

21st century love.

The kind you
find
in a messy bedroom
quoting lines
from a documentary
that made me
laugh.

Not eating meat
stands for
something.

He showed me
the movie
lying under covers
one arm around
a small waist and
a cigarette
out the window.

I call myself an
omnivore.
Eating scraps of
anything
I stand for
nothing.

21st century philosophies.

The kind we discuss
over the static of
a state line. That
kind of repetitive
thinking of all things
meaningless.

And he called himself an
existentialist but
he stands for something.

Documentaries don’t
show deleted
scenes. Documentaries
do not give you
contact information.

He kissed my
lips, breathed in
the faint smell of
chicken fingers
and bacon.

I told him
this
is 21st century poetry.

 

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