Day 99 – Smash Tea Kettle

You had that
smash tea kettle
you were
always breaking pieces off
and handing them to me

I strung them together
those pieces
I wore your
smash tea kettle pieces
round my neck

I loved it more
than any diamond
ever saw

I kept a piece
of your smash tea kettle
in my heart
it was the sharpness
that finally

cut me loose

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Day 78 – Fascination

Fascination
is a dangerous game
with no remorse-
the mind is a child
among shiny baubles,
nonpunishable.

Careful to keep
your eyes
in your lane
and don’t go
wandering
in the past

for you will always find
what you seek there,
shiny toys and
shiny ghosts.

Day 77 – Remember When

Remember when your friends
were not your coworkers,
when you didn’t have to play
every game on easy mode
because you don’t have the time
for all that effort?

Remember when you didn’t count calories?

Remember when your mom
sent you to bed
without supper,

remember when you didn’t have teeth?

Remember when you were dead set
on being famous,
when you weren’t scared,
when you drank Red Bull,
when you got arrested for burglary,
when you ate shrooms
and ran over a cat?

Well stop.

I’m not going to use your memories against you,
the ones you have and
the ones you don’t.

Some day you might remember this;
and it won’t matter if you do.

You Called Me A Contra

I was supposed to call you
every now and then,
I was supposed to ask you
how you’ve been.

But once you drove far enough away
not to care anymore
I never did.

I still know a song about dinosaurs we wrote
but I don’t know a thing
about you now.

Because you’d shave your head in secret
and say that we were close,
because you called me a contra
after all that time.

We were never supposed to change,
were we?

All that talk about honesty,
it came with hard conditions,
and I was never really the plan.
Not a contra.

It’s been a hundred years
but I think you’re fine
that I never called
’cause you called me a contra.

And a hundred years of maybe
becoming a contra
after all.

Year 2: Day 72 – Corncob

You keep comin’ to the same old place
’cause it doesn’t ask much of you,
it doesn’t need your full cooperation
to make you feel the best it can do.

And most of the time when you look around
you’re politely returning a smile you don’t want
in the first place, shaking a hand you don’t want
to touch, mouthing words you don’t hear.

But you’re still suckin’ on a corncob,
lookin’ at the door;
the party’s long been over
and there won’t be any┬ámore.

But it’s cold outside and it’s warm in here,
at least, ’til they lock the doors,
and no one needs you to love it here
’cause they know where you were before.

So you’ll keep comin’ to the same old place
so long as they don’t ask much of you,
ten years still suckin’ on a corncob
like it’s all you ever knew.

Year 2: Day 66 – Fly Over Me

Fly over me four years ago,
in love without one clue
that I was dying

Fly over me and see me in my party dress
like big girls wear,
and drinking alcohol,
a house full of kids doing whip-its,
nobody I ever should’ve known,
nobody who’d remember me now

Fly over me and whisper me a backbone,
tell me I’m not fated to pretend,
and when I don’t listen
and I know I won’t,
just fly over me
and drop a match