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"I'm Bored Out of my Skull"

Really, I can't think of anything else to say.
A new scratch is added to the record
Every time I talk to you,
Making for quite a few redundancies.
We all know I'm not really bored,
But you might be.
As I meet you in this hall,
I start noticing the near-microscopic dents
Of the darkened white brick walls
As one by one, the unused of the fifteen seconds
Line up and dive off the Brooklyn bridge
Like synchronized swimmers beginning their routine.
Everyone says I should be myself.
If I carried around an IV pole
With a constant drip of liquid "be yourself"
(an inorganic blue chemical that resembles
windshield washer fluid)
In a foggy plastic sac the size of my head
--then and only then I wouldn't try to impress you.
Then and only then I wouldn't poorly attempt
To cut facets into every last dull rock of my sentences
With a maddening high-pitched diamond saw
To fill hundreds of tiny velvet boxes for you.
Can I have a do-over?
The canvas isn't blank; I threw up on it.

21 Jan 07

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(3 more poems by this author)

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