today everything smells of excrement I could blame phantom odors or the echoes of odors in my head but I'm blaming the public poopers and pee-ers who chose to liberate their bladders in the vibrant bright of train station stairwells. I blame poor track re-routing announcements and a disrespect for this hallowed public space.
for months the library of congress struggled to ID the public pooper defaming and lousing the stacks and it was with much astonishment that the culprit--a dressed with care & conservatism--female lawyer was found to be the human laying hot turds in the stacks.
So I say again, blame the public pooper. The smell on the wind today is all hers.
It could have been the heels, the uncle, the beer run for the hospital commons room, or the two sticks of butter, but this blanket isn't as warm as it seems when you are tired. Blame your ex-boyfriend's split-level or four dirty underpants-- it's all the same. Hating can only work when you are four and your parent's take the blame, which at that point is more like love. For the rest of us, just suck it up, eat your peas slowly--it is just this.
3 comments:
blame the public pooper
today everything smells of excrement
I could blame phantom odors
or the echoes of odors in my head
but I'm blaming the public poopers
and pee-ers who chose to liberate their bladders in the vibrant bright of train station stairwells.
I blame poor track re-routing announcements and a disrespect for this hallowed public space.
for months the library of congress
struggled to ID the public pooper
defaming and lousing the stacks
and it was with much astonishment that the culprit--a dressed with care & conservatism--female lawyer
was found to be the human
laying hot turds in the stacks.
So I say again, blame the public pooper. The smell on the wind today is all hers.
It could have been the heels,
the uncle, the beer run
for the hospital commons
room, or the two sticks
of butter, but this blanket
isn't as warm as it seems
when you are tired. Blame
your ex-boyfriend's split-level
or four dirty underpants--
it's all the same. Hating
can only work when you are four
and your parent's take the blame,
which at that point is more
like love. For the rest of us,
just suck it up, eat your peas
slowly--it is just this.
I like the blame poems best of all. Blame the blame poems for being awesome, they can take it.
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