Porch Poem #1: Red, White and You

Out here on the porch,

I chew the fat

While I chew the actual fat

Of this fatty red meat

And drink this (no doubt fatty) red wine.

I’ve had a bit of the wine

So every time I type “red”

It seems to come out “read”

Which I find funny.

A Thursday.

I should be out

With the poets

Drinking in coffee and words

Eating a nice quiche with roasted vegetables

Or with you

Drinking you in.

No, not YOU.


And fuck no, definitely not YOU.

You’re in the middle of moving,

Or have already moved,

And I will miss your condo

Your comfy couch

Your white-walled bedroom

With the white sheets

And white comforter

And white fluffy dog

Your white hair.

But I’m fairly confident

You won’t miss me

Or don’t.

It’s pretty quiet

Out here on the porch

My CD just stopped playing in the kitchen.

One of those nights when I probably shouldn’t be alone;

My mind just goes and goes.

This social media break is hard

But necessary.

My mind needs to clear.

So many voices crowd in

When we lay down our every thought

To the masses.

So much is lost in translation

And so much trivialized by the







Emoticons compartmentalizing emotions

That are too complex to name.

Slowly, slowly

I am getting back to myself

Preferring soft baby skin against mine

Over likes, comments, notifications, favorites

Laughing at the sweet, high laughter

Of my children

As they make each other laugh.

Letting my red hair grow long.

Yet still stewing in so many


I could drown in them.

Maybe I’ll sleep out here

On the porch

And dream of another kind of Thursday

Of warmth

And words

And love.


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