On Funny

I am not funny
in the moment
when I try to be
I don’t write anything
my funny is accidental

I am too sensitive for funny
so I don’t hear my words
until they’re outside
my head

into your ears
laughter floats
into your mouth
bubbles of funny
pop out to surprise me

refections of your
laugh make me laugh
but
my funny is accidental

Advertisements

Bubbles on the Rocks

I thought I would know
after high school on a plane to Calgary
tears hidden inside my bucket hat
further then I’d ever been from friends and family

I thought I would know
when I met folks kinda like me
fuelled my search with beer and cigarettes
just like everyone I leaned on to see

All I really know
as my hair turns grey I get glimpses of me
but she says things I can’t understand
so I sabotage her with bubbles on the rocks

I thought I would know
when I got married
When I had children
a house, a car, two cats
Things that define what it means to be a grown up

All I really know
is some of that is me
and when I listen to the voice
that guides my pen, my feet and my knife
I notice the love I have
for the love in my privileged life

And I’ll take it all
With bubbles on the rocks

On Naps

In the morning
Ideally
after the coffee
groggy undramatic
freedom from gravity
diluted drippy imagination
waves of cliched distraction
wake up in a gasp
for more sleep.

there is no time

of course

the kids are
“starving”
their limbs on strike
inflated greedy last breath

demands rice krispies and
nutella toast

eyes
backlit
by unrealistically smart
kids
with stupid parents
innocent faces
distorted with laughter.

I realize they think
I am the adult
the parent they command and

naps are regulated
at best a guilty pleasure
not unlike Friends or
Micheal Buble at Christmas

they’re wrong

of course

How I Feel

I talk a lot
about everything
except how I feel
except what’s happened
except!
when I post on my page
cryptic “I’m having a bad day”
posts so I will be bathed and
cleansed by “what’s up hunny?’s”
or “hope your day gets better’s”
expect a “what happened, friend?”

permission to vomit
my guts all over 600 humans
who just want to avoid the splash

high school “friends”
I haven’t talked to since 1995
distant cousins
I politely share a beer with
every 5 years
work “friends”
from decades past

scroll quickly by
to avoid the smell

New Mom Rant

100_1505

I began to treat my friend
suddenly better, more important
Envied her tormented selfish life

She had a career! Fancy Clothes!
makeup to cover
that zit on her nose
(you seriously can’t see it)

I was disconnected
focused on baby milestones
I dreamt of freedom
unbearable burden
responsibility for life

She curled her hair with
a straightening iron
(blew my mind)
had breezy relationships
cried and fell apart she
reeked of drama
luxuries I will never have

I am mom
a puke stained, shit cleaning
milk cow with an attitude
and a bad haircut

Whoa! I read this again recently and was surprised at how angry I was, Hormones are some crazy drug! I don’t remember it being that bad.

Bar Story (an ode to Dry January)

As I look through your words
with a sweet vacant smile,
not trying to be rude…
I just don’t care about you.

“What?” you slur
“I think yer cute too”
“Ugh!” Not really
Admit it
Drunk in this pub

I’m just the part you endure
to get what you think you need
Why am I a cougar?
I don’t even want your
sloppy drunk seed!

Turn to exit
with some dignity
the world heaves and I
stumble predictably
Then Laugh as I run
to tell all the other
drunk moms
a cougar never stumbles.