(no subject)
Hey there,
Greetings from California. How is Washington? Boring as ever?
California is good. It wishes you well.
I accidentally bought an extra postcard.
Fifty cents down the drain, I thought.
Or, I thought, I could send it to you.
Maybe if you hadn’t dumped me 34 days ago
(4 days before my birthday),
I would. But, as this is written, I think maybe not.
This postcard is the worst one anyway.
I have never been to this location;
I don’t know where it is.
It’s for someone who doesn’t give a crap
that I’m in California
anyway.
I bought this extra postcard yesterday
on my rush out of the bookstore (here in California,
I have places to be. None of your aimless meanders.).
Fifty cents down the drain, I thought.
Fifty cents,
two weeks,
and several spoonfuls of double chocolate fudge ice cream with my best friend
down the drain.
The weather is beautiful. Glad I’m not there.
Clara
Thin and harried,
late for work,
finger-drumming,
caffeine-addicted,
terrible-tipping
yuppies.
Fat and rushed,
impeccably-tailored,
shrink-going,
caffeine-addicted,
tip-jar-ignoring
MBAs.
All demanding my attention.
All demanding my perfect hearing.
All demanding 16-oz. triple-shot low-fat soy milk caramel macchiatos.
No foam, they say.
Fuck you, I say.
I want to serve people who want to drink coffee.
Greetings from California. How is Washington? Boring as ever?
California is good. It wishes you well.
I accidentally bought an extra postcard.
Fifty cents down the drain, I thought.
Or, I thought, I could send it to you.
Maybe if you hadn’t dumped me 34 days ago
(4 days before my birthday),
I would. But, as this is written, I think maybe not.
This postcard is the worst one anyway.
I have never been to this location;
I don’t know where it is.
It’s for someone who doesn’t give a crap
that I’m in California
anyway.
I bought this extra postcard yesterday
on my rush out of the bookstore (here in California,
I have places to be. None of your aimless meanders.).
Fifty cents down the drain, I thought.
Fifty cents,
two weeks,
and several spoonfuls of double chocolate fudge ice cream with my best friend
down the drain.
The weather is beautiful. Glad I’m not there.
Clara
Thin and harried,
late for work,
finger-drumming,
caffeine-addicted,
terrible-tipping
yuppies.
Fat and rushed,
impeccably-tailored,
shrink-going,
caffeine-addicted,
tip-jar-ignoring
MBAs.
All demanding my attention.
All demanding my perfect hearing.
All demanding 16-oz. triple-shot low-fat soy milk caramel macchiatos.
No foam, they say.
Fuck you, I say.
I want to serve people who want to drink coffee.