Thirty (and a Half)

I ate five scoops of Breyers chocolate-peanut butter
ice cream and still want more–

                                  this, after two “meals” of beef-
flavored nothing noodles (Maruchan ramen)

I’m thirty (and a half)

When do I stop running
from “the good future”

                                      I see it through the
crystal balls of rich kids’ Instagrams

Say it with me:

                  I AM LIVING IN THE PAST.

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                  I WANT WHAT YOU HAVE.

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                          dancing girl emoji

                         But here’s the thing.

Earth spins so much it’s dizzying.
I’m running the opposite direction
to meet my past self but that fucker
doesn’t want to rendezvous.

                                          The future called
and told me to put the phone down, you’re
sweating arsenic
                 and They were right. I needed
a shower to cleanse myself of everything

before the neighbors made a stink about my stench.

(originally published in SCAB Magazine, Summer 2020)

Ramen in Japantown

I had been eating like shit living
in my car, fingernails full of fungus.
We agreed to meet in Japantown
to enjoy a fancy ramen
but this would be my first
in many years
that wasn’t Maruchan
(cheap crinkly plastic,
cancer-flavored beef-dust
in a sawtooth packet)
& you must be aware the body
struggles to digest it.
During our meal,
two years since
we last talked,
the cheap ramen must have
intermingled in my stomach
with the pork-broth
real deal. I put an egg
on top for authenticity
when you told me you had
just bought Coachella tickets
for yourself & your brother
& I didn’t want to know the
price because I was living
on wages made on the days
I was lucky enough to
find work. Umami
lingered on my tongue
as we ruminated
in silence over
how vast the distance
our lives traveled
in different directions.

 

(originally published in Triggerfish Critical Review, Winter 2020)