Not Even the French Laugh at Me
I never wanted to be the man farting
in the basement, so fat bending over
winds him. Idiosyncrasies depreciate
with age. Masturbation dulls when
you realize women my age pee when
they laugh, and the young are so
young. Remember: I stopped smoking
for you, learned the secret of language
and put on pants. Once, I ate murder
for lunch because I skipped breakfast,
spoke in riddles only the elect understood.
Now, I can barely handle tomatoes.
But the basement is warm and full
of comfortable things. I don’t need
to see what isn’t being used anymore.
I can open a window to help with the smell.
It’s too loud upstairs and they don’t
allow beer. In the dark, I forget and remember.
T u l s a
poems
CL Bledsoe
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