Breakfast on Saturday
We had Eggo waffles and a sausage,
a glass of milk and a cup of coffee,
our morning medications: a lozenge
of Prozac with its taste that's awfully
bitter. The Eggo waffles had a stale
texture, the sausage felt just like leather
this meal is probably the holy grail
of lousy meals served during bad weather.
Take the landlord from out of the kitchen
and get a professional chef instead
who will make meals that are hot and bitching
like pancakes and eggs and freshly baked bread.
The landlord's a novice and making meals,
let's get someone else whose cooking appeals.
Variations on a Theme by John Cage
wake in the Jumpsuit of the morning
with a cOnjoined twin
on the wHatever it was called
making Nothing out of the wasteland
the soil aCcretes through the
wind of Apple corporation stock smoking
a bonG of crack cocaine
on the Energy of the watershed
Justin bieber is On the wall in oHio carboNated
with the Capital phosphoric hAng sucrose Going caffEine
Breakfast on Friday
Today we had a bagel with cream cheese,
and a cup of coffee as black as night,
the meal was small and not enough to please
my stomach and not quite enough to fight
against the pangs of my morning hunger.
I need to eat something more like bacon
and eggs and pancakes as much as younger
people eat while they're still growing. Shaken
by the thought that I might not be eating
enough food to sustain my daily life
I pick up a stick and begin beating
my landlord for more food until his wife
surrenders the goods: the bacon and egg,
I got my food without having to beg.
The Meeting with My Case Manager
I went an hour early to my meeting
with my case manager because I woke
up early with the feeling of needing
to get out of the house before I'd croak
from boredom. I went to the library
first where I walked around and looked at books
and looked at people trying to carry
tomes with dust and detritus in their nooks
and crannies. My case manager always
points out what I'm doing wrong, I can't save
money, I eat too much, I fart, I blaze
blunts, and drink way too much, and dig my grave
early, I'm too young to die of liver
failure, I should really listen to her.
Ordering a Drink
At the bar I ordered a martini
which is probably my favorite mixed drink.
unscrew the cap and release the genie,
and into a tame wasted stupor sink.
I get my drink and the mixture's cloudy
which can only mean one thing, and that's brine.
I take a sip before getting rowdy,
but the gin tastes something like turpentine
I'm trying to think about who to blame,
me or the bartender, I hate dirty
drinks, and I should have chose which gin by name,
instead of being at the well's mercy.
I think that I should have requested Smirnoff,
but this bartender is a major jerk off.
"Five Poems" by Kenneth Larot Yamat
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