Advertising Threat

Hourglasses (an excerpt)

“In the real world people don’t swallow hourglasses,” she said.

”It’s a metapho-“

”I thought you said we were talking about the real world!” she was angry and confused.

”We are! Metaphors are used in the real world.”

”Well, in the real world, people shouldn’t be using those. In the real world people shouldn’t be saying things they don’t mean when they say them, and they shouldn’t be saying things that mean other things than what they really mean when they say them… and they shouldn’t be swallowing no hourglasses!” she pouted and folded her arms and stared at the seat in front of her.

”Well said, little missy. Well said.”

Hourglasses
November 11, 2011
-Brandon Peralta

Who Cares?

I was going to write a post
about this little girl with pink-tails,
that I saw on the train tonight,
with her aging mother, and
her overall outfit combo.

I was going to write about
how I couldn’t take my eyes off
of her tightly tied pink-tails, or
how perfectly spaced apart
her baby teeth were. 

I was going to write all about
how I would give anything
to live life that young again.
How I miss the very innocence,
the ignorance, of being a child. 

I was going to write about
her, sitting on the train in a few years
looking at a girl who looked like she does now,
thinking about all of the mistakes she’s made
and how she too’d be wishing to be young again. 

I was going to write about
the tears that gathered in my eyes,
and the fact that my lower lip 
wouldn’t stop quivering if my
very life depended on it.

I was going to write all of this…

but then I thought,

who cares? 

Interesting,

I find it interesting,
how the poems of mine
that revolve around you,
are the favorites of those
that surround me.

They are read,
and they are loved,
and they are cared for.

But, I have found
that the poems of mine
that circumnavigate you,
are those that hold
poor favor with me.

They do not even begin
to capture the feelings
I have for you. 

the diner

brightlightsloudnoises:

before we were old enough for the 
bars
we’d hit the diner
2 AM
black coffee
cigarettes 
there was always time
for one more cup
always time to plan
for things that
never
happened 

then
we’d try the
motels
and
if they didn’t
take us
we’d sneak into
the park
and 

fuck
under-
neath
the
stars