Just cause I like it!
This poem is what I'm referring to
Ex-Boyfriends
by Kim Addonizio
They hang around, hitting on your friends
or else you never hear from them again.
They call when they're drunk, or finally get sober,
they're passing through town and want dinner,
they take your hand across the table, kiss you
when you come back from the bathroom.
They were your loves, your victims,
your good dogs or bad boys, and they're over
you now. one writes a book in which a woman
who sounds suspiciously like you
is the first to be sadistically dismembered
by a serial killer. They're getting married
and want you to be the first to know,
or they've been fired and need a loan,
their new girlfriend hates you,
they say they don't miss you but show up
in your dreams, calling to you from the shoeboxes
where they're buried in rows in your basement.
Some nights you find one floating into bed with you,
propped on an elbow, giving you a look
of fascination, a look that says I can't believe
I've found you. It's the same way
your current boyfriend gazed at you last night,
before he pulled the plug on the tiny white lights
above the bed, and moved against you in the dark
broken occasionally by the faint restless arcs
of headlights from the freeway's passing trucks,
the big rigs that travel and travel,
hauling their loads between cities, warehouses,
following the familiar routes of their loneliness.
"Ex-Boyfriends" by Kim Addonizio, from What Is This Thing Called Love. © W.W. Norton, 2004. Reprinted without permission
In my quest to find a new roommate I've sunk to this. Reprinting other peoples poems. I'm certain I'll hear Willy Norton or Alfred Knopf beating down my door tomorrow to teach me about copyright law. So please Please PLEASE send me a roommate!
I NEED A ROOMMATE !!! I've got a room for rent in the Toco Hills Emory area. 2 minutes from I-85 and 4 minutes. from the Emory campus. It's $550 a month. That includes all utilities Sorry no pets!
Ex-Boyfriends
by Kim Addonizio
They hang around, hitting on your friends
or else you never hear from them again.
They call when they're drunk, or finally get sober,
they're passing through town and want dinner,
they take your hand across the table, kiss you
when you come back from the bathroom.
They were your loves, your victims,
your good dogs or bad boys, and they're over
you now. one writes a book in which a woman
who sounds suspiciously like you
is the first to be sadistically dismembered
by a serial killer. They're getting married
and want you to be the first to know,
or they've been fired and need a loan,
their new girlfriend hates you,
they say they don't miss you but show up
in your dreams, calling to you from the shoeboxes
where they're buried in rows in your basement.
Some nights you find one floating into bed with you,
propped on an elbow, giving you a look
of fascination, a look that says I can't believe
I've found you. It's the same way
your current boyfriend gazed at you last night,
before he pulled the plug on the tiny white lights
above the bed, and moved against you in the dark
broken occasionally by the faint restless arcs
of headlights from the freeway's passing trucks,
the big rigs that travel and travel,
hauling their loads between cities, warehouses,
following the familiar routes of their loneliness.
"Ex-Boyfriends" by Kim Addonizio, from What Is This Thing Called Love. © W.W. Norton, 2004. Reprinted without permission
In my quest to find a new roommate I've sunk to this. Reprinting other peoples poems. I'm certain I'll hear Willy Norton or Alfred Knopf beating down my door tomorrow to teach me about copyright law. So please Please PLEASE send me a roommate!
I NEED A ROOMMATE !!! I've got a room for rent in the Toco Hills Emory area. 2 minutes from I-85 and 4 minutes. from the Emory campus. It's $550 a month. That includes all utilities Sorry no pets!