Note: I wrote these poems in college, in a poetry writing class which turned out to be the best class I took in the course of my four years at school. I thought I would get this up here just for the heck of it. Take it or leave it, I guess. You might also note that all these poem titles are commandeered from titles of Smiths songs. It was a placeholder gimmick at first, but then I grew to enjoy it. They’ve stuck.
Seven years ago I started pulling out my hair – giant tufts of it from both sides of my head. I watched the strands fall in scattered patterns on the table and experienced the beauty of temporary absence. (After you left me you phoned, asked to see me, then arrived at the house patchouli oil fingerprints still damp on your neck. I’ve never worn that scent.) In truth, the adage “absence makes the heart grow fonder” is the truest I can imagine – those hairs never grew back.
Everyday is like Sunday

I’ve not heard a dyslexic saxophonist, a chain-smoking bassist a fraud playing on cheap wooden recorders hawking his talent prostituting himself for pity or pithy glares or passive defeatist stares (of which the latter is worse) utter  
“maybe” “maybe not”  
without contemplating murder. In that moment I wish they’d fall onto a knife prey to a drastic and instant case of pancreatic cancer or a collapsed lung or a swelling of the brain causing a stroke and, if everything goes as planned, death.

I pray they’d never mouth another word giggle at another silly limerick for the duration of their disastrously snipped lives.  
I prefer them frozen in a torturous fixed pose ever after that moment one hand raised as if to swat the Quick Spirit. I desire to end them with a sturdy blow to the eardrum. They would never have another orgasm eat another Sundae lunch or even breathe.  
They’d go beautifully having said one last beautiful thing beautifully.

The World is Full of Crashing Bores

Dear potential future employer, I am writing to you because I want a job. I am a good worker. Hire me. Please.  
To Whom It May Concern, I would like a job at your firm. I’m sure I’d be an asset. I can use an exacto.  
Dear employer, You need a worker. I’m a hard worker – Me. Hire me.  
Dear Sir, (1) I am trying to get a job at your firm. (2) You are looking for someone. The two pieces seem to fit, so, am I hired?  
Dear Mr. Sparks, I am graduating from school, meaning I will soon have a degree. Does that really mean anything these days?  
Richard, let’s get to the point. You need me, I need you. Any more deliberation would be a waste of time.

Dear Rick, Not hiring me would be the biggest mistake. Seriously. The Biggest. So don’t make it.  
Sparky, can I call you Sparky? Anyway, I want a job. You have a spot. When do I start?  
Rick, you don’t know me but you need to see my portfolio. Tomorrow, 9:30?  
Hey, Hire me Hire me Hire me.  
Mr. Richard Sparks of CEI, Inc., I will be graduating in the spring with a degree in Graphic Design. I am hoping for a job as a junior designer at your firm and will call your office on Monday to discuss setting up an interview. Thank you for your time.

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want

if you wanted to alter the country and the atmosphere and the general level of education and the popular opinion of the people and the way they spend their time and their coinage which you’ve proven numerous times you can  
if you wanted to make intelligent decisions and if you had any scruples and a conscience and cared about someone besides yourself and your cronies and your bankroll which you’ve proven numerous times you should

if you wanted to build a less terrifying future and your cohorts did too and theirs did as well and your motives were pure and transparent and you went in with half a brain which you’ve proven numerous times you could  
you might start by admitting your potential to be wrong

America is Not the World
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