Fuck. I’ve caught up. No more travel stories. No more muddy pant legs or sweaty scarves or damaged cameras. It’s all over. I’ve got a lease in my hand and a pen that is about to sign my life back into normal-dom. And I don’t wannaaaaaaaa. Somewhere along the way, I got the idea that staying put and having a job and having pets and being ‘normal’ was horrific. So, this pen represents for me a life that I don’t want to live. Ah! What should I do? I was just frolicking among the rubber trees in Laos and now I’m in a sterile cubicle. My synapses are protesting. I’m pounding my feet into the warm Santa Monica ground and screaming and wailing and tantruming more than I did when I was fourteen and calling my mom a bitch. I am in a perfect state of confused chaotic panic that I secretly love because it can only mean a new beginning. In times like these, I can only write a poem, which is weird because I’m not really a poetry kind of girl. Something is seriously amiss.
I saw the world
I wrote a blog
I ate a lot
I pet some hogs
I sweat on trains
I puked up peas
I chased the rains
I switched to teas
I met new friends
I donned new clothes
I gave kids pens
I took some blows
I pet a fish
Saw skirts on men
Some made of pigs
Some made of hens
I had this thing
It defined who I am
Now, very over
And I question again
Back to life
Back to reality
Searching for a word
That rhymes with reality
Back to work
Back to before
This time it’s different
I’m so much more
Comments
6 responses to “A poetic tantrum”
Oh I love your poem!!!!! You are so talented!
that lease better be for a place in chicago… just sayin…
con cariño
karina
Mentality rhymes with reality..eh?
Back to the grind
With an all-new mentality.
How's that, Anonymous critiquer?
Just not as funny.
I love the poem, and I really identify with it. I remember coming back to the States after a year and a half abroad. Such a difficult adjustment, but then again, you'd be surprised at how much a place opens up after you've gained new perspective on it.
the reality rhyming thing reminds me of how there are no true blue foods. no, blueberries don't count.