aayoungIt’s ordinary…
mundane, absolutely nothing special.
Part of a set that was purchased in the late 80’s
or early nineties would be my guess.
This brown, plastic 1/8 cup scoop
that came to symbolize our every morning
spent sharing coffee
no matter if we were 12 inches
or 1,200 miles apart. We always had coffee.
It is special because he sent it to me
in a care package when I was aching for him.
I still ache for him,
so it’s my coffee scoop until my dying day.
You, insidious creature,
tell me how the fuck is it
you can make a daisy
mean
death?
it was my fifteenth hour
headed north
on the cardinal route
a leaving delaware delirium
resting uncomfortably
in the lack of a sleeping car
back when jersey still had a shore
the train tracks were skimming us
toward a crashing nighttime death
in the black atlantic
sharks approach silently with their teeth
out the window
my eyes found
an iron bound
bridge glaring back at me
stretching the width of the garden state
wearing a red neon garter
as a sign
reading,
“Trenton makes, the world takes…”
and i knew then
all was lost
it was the september
of not wanting
to know more
he sits back all kerouac
trying to seem like a bigger fish
his neurosis wants me to see a piranha
but i’ve swum his dirty tank
tried to filter his polluted waters
and i know
he’s all crappy