poetry and poets

Sunday, April 03, 2005

another round

Samuel Akiva Pui-Ying Huang Skeist

Well, I already had two, might as well make it four, ya know, never be a quitter, stick with what you’re good at. Mom always says, “Just be you.” I smile and nod to appease her concern and inside, I’m like, “yeah mom, I know…but which one?” I’m twenty five years old and my first illusion still aint done. High school drop out turned foreign land language professor who free styles lesson plans and crammed linguistic books just to spit, “I want a beer and you play pool- wo xiang yi ping pijiu, ni da taiqiu ma.” I’m stuck, inadequate and tongue tied with nothing to say, except, I am completely ordinary… and there is no one else like me. I take full responsibility and openly claim to have squandered 1,000 opportunities and in some way taken for granted every ragged red ribboned gift bestowed upon me. Every day could be Chanukah, instead I play harmonica for the rest of the grimy rain dogs and say yartsa for every beer that’s spilled. Forget wasting time. I gave her a sloppy kiss, left her at home and got wasted with my crew. Then stumbled into bed and honestly expected her to respond to my whiskey breathed affection. That lump of clay could have been anything and all I made was a lopsided ashtray.