beer pong is concentric
angles & behind-the-back
a miracle of physics
not that I understand
the finer maths of sport
I held an endless reservoir
of alcohol schoolnights turned
blue-lipped and blurred
pages flipped to I-don’t-know-
how-I-got-here one time
awakening on a bed of roses
at the belly of Constitution Hall
staring to the vacant moon
soaked in sticky juice a book
with its pages torn out
partying was the new
beginning growing up how birdlike
I rose from the ash of a suburb
to learn a new suburb how limiting
to be alive in a time of bubbles
floating in a happy blur
chemically unwell
days to pop
(originally published in Erothanatos, Spring 2020)
wasn’t that how life
was supposed to go?
ah, college followed
the whims of fun.
it turns out I stayed out
too late in its shadow
and now capitalism
is the only one
who wants me to follow.
he says
you’re thirty now
so have some drinks
and pizza
if you want
dab the grease
with a napkin first
but don’t limit
yourself to one
(originally published in children, churches, and daddies, Fall 2019)