Found

I can be found not so surreptitiously picking my nose behind the driver’s wheel of my car
Sipping hard on ice cold slimfast shakes
Judging others, making too many mistakes
At the center of attention wanting to be left alone
Somewhere between completely lost and googling the definition of rusty trombone

I can be found micro managing the sleep of children
Wiping drool from little mouths and tucking sheets back in
I can be found wide awake at 2am watching murder mysteries
Getting contact high from the smoke while rubbing his tired feet
Up at 6am giving half awake head
Over sleeping in comfy platform bed
I can be found in the bathroom, because I drink too much water
At McDonald’s the day before payday scraping up quarters
I am always looking for change,
I get bored easily
I believe in tangents and I prefer my conversations deep
You can find me
Ending poems abruptly

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To the Restaurant that Doesn’t Serve Bacon After Noon

To the restaurant that doesn’t serve bacon after noon

Fuck you

Who are you to confine bacon to a box that’s not Styrofoam to keep my bacon hot for me to take home

You are the same forces of evil behind happy hour

I don’t need a certain time slot to be happy

I have joy as long as a drink is in me

You cannot control the amounts of alcohol that I choose take in

And when

Just as you can’t regulate quality time with my new delicious friend

Or even begin to understand the lust, the trust the faith I have in

bacon

Unexpected

I wish I had saved all of those text messages

You were so corny and I didn’t know that I loved it yet

I didn’t know your “good morning, pumpkin” wasn’t just to get some pussy

It was a mark of your consistency; a reflection of how often you think of me

You weren’t gaming me

you were simply

Being yourself