06-11-2016, 04:41 PM
Suburban Camouflage
I saw the movers carry in what had to be
a tanning bed- a vampire coffin- or
a George Forman grill for an elk?
It was the subject of much speculation
Till last night, the neon purple
tanning lights lit up
their basement windows
like Close Encounters.
My fickle moths have
all abandoned my porchlight
to go bounce off
The glowing glass-
bip. bip. bip.
My new neighbors are excessively fit
and horrendously tan.
Like a sort of cordovan shoe polish tan
That is both unnaturally dark
And slightly greasy.
You almost want to run your finger
down their forearm, and
observe your fingertip.
I have seen the husband strut
From front door to Land Rover
I've seen the glint of his forearm
As I chew a Danish in
the grayish-lavender shade
of my kitchen.
Mrs. Chen has seen the woman
Whilst getting her mail--
The wife has Baywatch blonde hair.
She also has the wooden tobacco Indian tan.
I can't seem to stop looking at her spherical breasts
The nipples are like little marbles
It's like ignoring someone staring
You lock eyes fixedly,
hoping you don't look crazy
Praying for anything interesting to happen
In the background .
I peel an orange and text
my friend about what freaks they are
Leaving little sticky prints on the screen.
I'm not sure if I'm revolted or jealous
really--their teeth are unnaturally bluish-white
-It's hard not to just watch them flash
while they talk.
They dress...Forever 21
When they have to be...mid-fourties
His neck tattoos
And her pierced belly button
Make my eyelid shiver
with unspent mirth.
Undoubtedly if I were told to strip
at gunpoint by a bank robber,
I would rather be shot.
I am squishy. My smallish breasts are wiggly.
I'm a pale, washed-out cream color
With freckles, and some scribbly
Violet veins, here and there.
I used to be a character, unforgettable
Tell a joke to a crowd gal
But not now
Now your eyes will bounce off me
As I'm generally unnoticed
In my suburban camouflage
Of black yoga pants
And ponytail.
Mrs. Chen and I
Drink wine on my back deck
Peering around the pergola,
and perennials
That give my hand something to do
I dead head geraniums,
as our snarky tongues devour
the level of blush wine sinks
In my glass
as the sun sinks,
and the navy night
rises.
My neighbor drags her small, ridiculous,
unwilling dog home
I'm alone in my shivering ferns.
Their clothes are so tight
It's no effort to imagine them naked
Their sex, I imagine, is near perfect-
nothing jiggles
Pretty sweat rolls down
His aquiline nose, her hip bones
Shining bronze angles.
Lights on and eyes open.
I finish my wine
And salute the night sky
With my goblet
"Ut diligatis vas vacuum replendum."
May love fill this empty vessel
The night is long, oh Lord.
They don't have curtains upstairs
I see the yellow rectangles glowing
upstairs--I imagine
they hope someone is watching
maybe--they anticipate I will watch
and that sole thought
is the green button
To the orgasm that
rockets through them.
I saw the movers carry in what had to be
a tanning bed- a vampire coffin- or
a George Forman grill for an elk?
It was the subject of much speculation
Till last night, the neon purple
tanning lights lit up
their basement windows
like Close Encounters.
My fickle moths have
all abandoned my porchlight
to go bounce off
The glowing glass-
bip. bip. bip.
My new neighbors are excessively fit
and horrendously tan.
Like a sort of cordovan shoe polish tan
That is both unnaturally dark
And slightly greasy.
You almost want to run your finger
down their forearm, and
observe your fingertip.
I have seen the husband strut
From front door to Land Rover
I've seen the glint of his forearm
As I chew a Danish in
the grayish-lavender shade
of my kitchen.
Mrs. Chen has seen the woman
Whilst getting her mail--
The wife has Baywatch blonde hair.
She also has the wooden tobacco Indian tan.
I can't seem to stop looking at her spherical breasts
The nipples are like little marbles
It's like ignoring someone staring
You lock eyes fixedly,
hoping you don't look crazy
Praying for anything interesting to happen
In the background .
I peel an orange and text
my friend about what freaks they are
Leaving little sticky prints on the screen.
I'm not sure if I'm revolted or jealous
really--their teeth are unnaturally bluish-white
-It's hard not to just watch them flash
while they talk.
They dress...Forever 21
When they have to be...mid-fourties
His neck tattoos
And her pierced belly button
Make my eyelid shiver
with unspent mirth.
Undoubtedly if I were told to strip
at gunpoint by a bank robber,
I would rather be shot.
I am squishy. My smallish breasts are wiggly.
I'm a pale, washed-out cream color
With freckles, and some scribbly
Violet veins, here and there.
I used to be a character, unforgettable
Tell a joke to a crowd gal
But not now
Now your eyes will bounce off me
As I'm generally unnoticed
In my suburban camouflage
Of black yoga pants
And ponytail.
Mrs. Chen and I
Drink wine on my back deck
Peering around the pergola,
and perennials
That give my hand something to do
I dead head geraniums,
as our snarky tongues devour
the level of blush wine sinks
In my glass
as the sun sinks,
and the navy night
rises.
My neighbor drags her small, ridiculous,
unwilling dog home
I'm alone in my shivering ferns.
Their clothes are so tight
It's no effort to imagine them naked
Their sex, I imagine, is near perfect-
nothing jiggles
Pretty sweat rolls down
His aquiline nose, her hip bones
Shining bronze angles.
Lights on and eyes open.
I finish my wine
And salute the night sky
With my goblet
"Ut diligatis vas vacuum replendum."
May love fill this empty vessel
The night is long, oh Lord.
They don't have curtains upstairs
I see the yellow rectangles glowing
upstairs--I imagine
they hope someone is watching
maybe--they anticipate I will watch
and that sole thought
is the green button
To the orgasm that
rockets through them.