I read about the winner
of the Harris Teeter gift card
and saw Angrier, North Carolina.
A mistake small enough
to slip in your pocket
in the checkout line.
But I admit I’m angry.
Four of my friends died this year.
I would have more save-
the-dates for wakes than weddings
on my fridge if 30-year-olds did that.
You maybe see now
why I am angry
my friend said he was scared
to die alone and I said he was silly
instead of let’s get married!
I admit my fist has tightened
around my steering wheel
as if to say I’m ok if I’m not
screaming, as if to say look
at all the control I have.
I admit I’m so angry that I cry
at surprise proposals now.
I’m so angry I write down
So angry I demand unending hugs.
I’m lousy and bloated
with love. In anger I apologize
for not congratulating you soon,
Lisa M. of Angier, North Carolina.
I’m angry and I wish you the bounty
of double coupon day, of dented cans
sold for cheap. A slab of bloody roast
with the most perfect marble.
A flat of strawberries near spoil,
right when they’re sweetest.
TagsDeath and Dying, Food, Poetry, Love
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