potato pancakes, nothing like bubbe's recipe
it's halloween morning, and hitler's sitting behind me, dolly parton asking to refill me
it's not a costume, just her close resemblance.
I sat, hung over and cynical about the night before
at the party,
thinking I should have left, but instead i sat on the bathroom floor
and wandered why I always end up in the most bizarre places
grabbed a playboy from a rack, and stole the centerfold
Miss September rolling with diamonds, I put her in my pocket.
outside my best friend was talking to a soldier,
said he hates fags and likes to blow things up
a real pyromaniac
I grab her hand and we leave,
I steal, from nails in the wall, an old framed picture of a large pile of corn crib
i'd liked it all night, thought it would look nice on my dresser
on the porch a 30 some asks us if we wanted to blaze in his van
we ran to the car
I always end up in the darnedest places, but
hash browns are the only thing that make me feel better,
the service is bad, and the ambience is worse
I decided I wouldn't pay, so
I order a shortstack and a tall chocolate milk,
i grabbed my friend's hand and we dashed and dined,
i imagine dolly upset over my 11.75 and to her,
I say sorry.
this is the first poem I have ever written.
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