Hey guys, remember me? I missed you. Thanks for indulging me in a week-long (fine, week-and-a-half-long) break while I, you know, graduated from college. It’s lovely to see that many of you continued to check in every day!
I guess I’m a real adult now, and I feel a little unmoored. Happy to move to a city, to buy a bunch of Ikea furniture for my new digs, to date guys who don’t look and act like they’re 16. Apprehensive to leave this stage of life behind. Here’s a poem I love by Kim Addonizio from the September/October 2011 issue of The American Poetry Review that’s just as simultaneously mature/childish/irreverent as I feel. It’s a pretty excellent anthem for anyone who’s currently single.
I miss the penis.
I feel like a word with no vowels;
no one wants to pronounce me.
Woke up this morning,
looked around for my penis.
J’ai été dévasté;
Le zizi, Je ne pouvais pas le trouver.
I would like to order a penis, please,
with dressing on the side.
This soup could use a dash of penis.
Señor Plátano: ¿dónde estás?
Mr. Defile Me, where you at?
There’s something lacking in the décor:
an artfully placed penis.
There used to be one, right over there.
Reading the paper, using a drill gun,
leaving socks on the floor.
Now there’s a hole in my heart,
penis-sized. Ohhhhh prostate
baby you up and gone.
Those old seminal vesicles done rambled on.
A penis has taken flight.
Probably gonna fly all night.
There’s a flock of penises headed south.
Their cries recede over the distant car dealerships.
Over the darkened pleather interiors
and the stoned janitor
sloshing his mop
in a bucket of dirty water.