Cherries and Noodles

30 06 2009

Tumble downstairs;
it’s three fifteen,
the fridge is full-up somehow
with cherries and noodles.

Now I remember,
dad came this morning
laden with food
after a Costco trip.

Left his truck outside
and pissed-off my neighbor.
He had to run out to stop her.
She was screaming:
“move your fucking truck!”

Shrill bitch.
I want to leave insidious notes like:
“your body odor is overpowering.” and
“do not believe you are alone,
when walking to the mailbox.”

Let it go.
Heat the noodles.
Pick out the rotten cherries
that are frosted with mold,
that stare at me
with their fungus eyes.

Cherries in a deep blue bowl,
water steadily rising.

Take it all in hand,
but the noodles burn me.
Suddenly it’s cherries
flying through the air
like confetti,
and noodles scattered
across the carpet.

Somehow it’s beautiful


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3 responses

2 07 2009
bindo

Kill that bitch!!!!

Great poem…..I dig the love between you and your hard working gad

2 07 2009
bindo

hehehe I meant dad

6 07 2009
Scarlett Parrish

“do not believe you are alone,
when walking to the mailbox.”

That’s as creepy as the look on your face when I surprise you with a feather duster.

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