Dry martini,
you’re getting wet.
I can hear your music over face time.
”Hands Down.”
“I hadn’t heard it in forever.” She said.
I’m pouring wine, poor me.
Lost in lust, lost in the handout.
She changes in front of the camera.
It’s been years since i’d seen her slide off a Zulily dress.
Four years since I’d felt her voice, like a creepy crawly playing my ear drums. I love the song.
trouble will find us,
in Greece or in Raleigh.
My wife would not be happy.
perfect timing for rhyming,
the wind blows and the silver is chiming.
we talked for eight hours,
like sucking a lemon for the sour.
She’s afraid of commitment,
I’m the self sabotaging counter part.
not my best work, not my perfect art.
Play Springsteen,
pretend we’re sixteen.
Rekindle with oxygen,
suffocate with booze.
again and again;
set life on cruise.
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I would love your interpretation on this piece, because I’m afraid that I’m interpretting this wrong. This is definitely a piece to think about. The last line really spoke to me. I pictured the narrator engaging in lustful affairs with other women, something that is supposed to make him happy but he is actually depressed. But for him this is cruise control something that he considers as a part of life.
I also really enjoyed the play on words in the beginning, such as “dry martini” and “you’re getting me wet.” Well written piece, something I definitely want to come back to.
It’s a toast to infedilty, yes. A downcast annotation. You struck every nail. It’s about suffocating in your own Self-saboteur culture.
I love everything about this poem. The title originally drew me in, thinking this was going to be a poem about the clothing company. I was really happy that it turned out to be so much more. This has an incredibly nostalgic feel to it that feels natural, and whether that was intentional or not it works so well. I can’t wait to read more from you!
Why did you delete this?