wait, just let me explain

it was in a nice neighborhood, that duplex. the kind
where the luxury sneaks up on you; you turn a corner

and it pops it’s polo collar: rich. my first time hanging
there I smoked a joint with some old tobacco rolled in

on a wet outdoor patio. we were barefoot, and the damp,
dark wood had small puddles hidden around. I remember
succulents in painted pottery, probably drowning.

next door to us was a massive house. it had tall windows
around the exterior, giving us a high-angle, fantastically
voyeuristic view of a gorgeous interior. these looked

like California folk to me. I scoffed and mocked their wealth
because it was easy. I smoked and passed that joint that had
been rolled for me by a friend.

the last time I was at that duplex I noticed something else.
there were no books! I found a shelf near the patio door.

earlier I had looked at the pictures and knick-knacks, and that
had been enough. tonight I had come in on a drinking game

involving cards and I was not familiar; no one was talking to me.
I felt too sober, which is a rarity. so I scanned that shelf for a book

this time. same football trophies, same old pictures, from school:
looks like high and middle. but those black & dusty Ikea-looking slabs

were empty of literature. I tell ya, I found three spines. one was a
book of cocktail recipes. hm, that’s predictable. I think two were
drink-listers. I gave up on the third, which was unlabeled on the spine

and drab. yeah, I was judging. maybe you’ve noticed a motif in this poem.
(it wasn’t on purpose) the point is

One thought on “wait, just let me explain

  1. I always love the narrative of your poems. If you gotta judge, judgement based on the lack of literature is a wise move…in my book (sorry about that).

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