Jamaica 11423

18 Sep


Jamaica 11423


true story:

the statue asked me to brush her hair

and handed me the brush

the repetition of the word

concerned me only

during the bus ride to work

we were going Caribbean and stoic

and I knew that I was running late

the statue

carried me home around 7am

over her shoulder

across hip hop and rerouted train lines

metropolitan construction and approaching hangovers

becoming faith, becoming reconciliation

becoming brown, becoming blue

becoming overpriced cocaine at tourist prices

the repetition of the word

worrying me again

bus ride back to work

the statue

as silent and gray

as a sad punk girl that I dated

a few years ago

who I’ve heard turned pink and happy

like the inside of a sea shell

when she discovered mediocre electronica and MDMA

the statue

studies my constant and formidable reluctance

she lets me kiss her neck

just once

and she speaks

just once

adorable and admonishing

like an infant tyrant in a picture book

“baby, you’re going to be late for work”


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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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