You call THIS a sandwich?! (February 16, 2010)

A two-tone colored salad precedes my disappointment.
Lacking the crispness and variety that I desire.
I consume the vegetable mishap to quell my hunger.
My stomach yet screams like a church choir.
I await the Philly steak.
Engaging in mindless dialogue with a former lover and her mother.
The mother accompanies the daughter in a car shopping endeavor.
Our waitress enters and I glance at rubberized disgrace.
Meager, unsatisfying, and draws great ire to my stomach.
Like a child that receives a Happy Meal without a toy.
Ill-prepared, greasy, unfit for human consumption.
Check please.


I Have Your DNA (February 18, 2010)

What a quaint thought.
To be twelve years of age and wish you dead.
Praying to a God that never answers.
I self-medicate to free my thoughts of you.
Subdued thoughts. Momentarily dulled.
Memories of unhappiness in your eyes.
Was this a learned trait from your father?
Two generations removed from a womanizing alcoholic.
How deep was your hatred?
More than I detest you?
I pledge to my future wife that I will break the cycle.
To be kind and understanding. Firm and fair.
To be a provider and a father.
But I am you, and harbor great darkness.
I’m afraid because I can’t outrun myself.