scandalize this

I woke up on the 14th
in a bed too
big for just me, cinderblocks, left middle
eye blinded by sun
I pushed her aside
and went to maytag
to pick up a beer.
walking down the hall
to take a
shower.
I turn it on, hot
bullets
making Coors disgusting,
the same way a summer
day would make the
idea of a decadent chocolate
cake
revolting.
my phone vibrates,
and I step
out from behind the
curtain to pick it up,
leaving a trail
of water
behind
me.
"where are you? you're with another girl, aren't you? do I matter?" (hang up)
she'll call back six,
maybe seven
times.
I'll ignore it.
she said she
loved me
I love loved
you love loved
he/she/it loves loved
we love loved
you love loved
they love. loved
but that is there
and I am here
but she is there
and she is here
she is here
breathing up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down
with her
head there, so still,
so
perfect.
I'd need to call
back sometime.
need to stop living in
fast world
a la motel 6.

"please forgive me if I stray, but you knew which magazine you subscribed for. the chirping heart is muffled, drowned out by liquor and tall blondes. you blind sun himself, but I won't realize that until it's too late. get better, you deserve better.
(I love you

not a test

this is not an experiment.
this poem has nothing in it
that is not blatantly obvious.
no hidden meanings or
clever syntax or
metaphors
images
diction
figurative language.
no, it is very normal.
a normal poem.
normal mcnormalberg that takes the normal train to its normal job at normal corp. in normalville, normalvania in normalcountry.
everyone can read this poem.
everyone that is still reading this poem
is reading it in vain.
they will be disappointed.
sorry.
everyone that is doing close readings of this poem
will fail their tests.
but someone, somewhere
will find a meaning to this poem.
a meaning I did not
intend.
and this person will be
the best literary critic
ever.
this person will have found something
inside of me
I did not know existed.
because this poem is
normal.
unassuming.
accessible.
maybe my writing days
are over
because all I have to
write about now is
how normal my poems are.
this is a normal poem.