Friday, June 14, 2002

Hey You Guys!

It's Poetry Friday!

So check it out, yo. Today's poetry is by magic Maggie Sullivan, my poet sister. I couldn't choose just one so here's a few, for different moods: crushes, confusion, and more crushes!

Just for background, Maggie grew up in Koreatown just like me and Ben and then lived in South Dakota, Minneapolis, oh heck, all over.

Maggie finds heroism in secret places all the time.


Thirsty Gulp

being 39 isn't a good enough reason to feel bad

take Donn for instance

he's 42 and still works at Borders

and gives a babe like me a boner

he knows you're supposed to put butter on the popcorn

he knows you're supposed to put salt on

he knows you're supposed to read slow

he knows you're not supposed to know

right now he's memorizing moves behind the register

from a book about wrestling in the 1800s

I'm dusting the mystery shelves behind him

wishing he'd use one on me

he speaks Old Minnesotan

criminy, he goes way back!

funnier than W.C. Fields and scarier

he knows how to say, "That was delicious. Thank you."

and he can be wrong

he ate a whole anchovy all at once

from my plate in the breakroom yesterday,

and then realized--

he is old-time punk rock music

he knows for a fact it's possible to break your back in two

and still walk

he's an expert on lite fare

although it doesn't help so much

Donn born with two Ns

even in big beige plastic grandma glasses

and corrective shoes

he's so in style

it breaks me



Here's to being very alone all the time!

To Charlie Rose!

To the bus!

Here's to office birthday cards

signed by temps who're gone now!

To a brittle liquor store notebook

with only one thing written inside--

the start of a letter to her!

Here's to unresolved anger!

To unresolved love!

Forget about turning out good at the end!

Forget turning out, at all!

Here's to the untrue and impossible!

To chords strummed only once a world!

To the sun!

Here's to the crack of a New Year's

morning beer, right here

on this trailer porch!

Here's to being very alone all the time!


Going to California

It's a windy night with fireflies

and I'm taking apart a guitar

and my sisters are upstairs fighting

about a brush. Sixteen lemons

have fallen since you were here.

I should send you one

so you can eat it in front of somebody

and impress him. (That is meant to be a joke.)

One thing you should know

is that you have extremely beautiful hair.

Those guys had been partying

too heavily for their own well-being

and were about to fall asleep.

They were more dreaming than seeing.

Add to this the fact that they

are not artistically creative.

I feel sorry for them, more than anything else.

Well you haven't written yet.

That's cool. I know how it is

when you don't feel like writing a letter.

You probably have more significant things

to think about, like school.

Could you send me your phone number again?

Unfortunately, Jennifer thought it was a receipt

and threw it away.

Well I'm back and look

you've driven me to drink.

I'm mailing this right after it's finished

so please make some allowances.

I had a dream about you last night.

Listen I wish you would come back sometime.

They put up a whole new building

for Maeder and those assholes.

You wouldn't even have to see them.


This Bus Is All Right!

This bus is all right!

Like me, it's late for History of Western Civilization Part Two class.

Actually, it doesn't bother.

It goes to the beach, really slowly.

Wherever you're coming from, for a dollar thirty-five,

it lets you deep inside.

In fact, the driver says, "Move all the way back!"

When you come out, you're in a completely different place,

without feeling invaded, dirty, inadequate,

rejected or regret.

You don't have to say anything on this bus.

You don't have to have a comeback, or explain.

You don't have to practice, or have traveled a lot.

You don't have to be able to see the pattern.

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