Streetcars and Husbands

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Some poorly dressed kid
in some indie variegated over washed T-shirt
and ripped (from years of use) jeans
offers his advice as if he had years of wisdom
under his sleeve:

“Znate, Hrvati imaju dvije zakon za život:
1. Nemoj trčati za tramvajem. 2. Nemoj trčati za mužem. i to je to.”*

And that is it?
THAT IS IT?

As if chasing after street cars and men
where the things weighing me down
and causing my sleepless nights
and over-caffeinated days…

as if this was the cause of my sciolistic urge
to make up for the fact
i didn’t live up to the dreams of my childhood.
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*Translation: “You know, Croats have two rules for life: 1. Do not run after streetcars. 2. Do not run after a husband. And that is it.

Poet versus Words

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where words were supposed to dance
on white background blue lines,
it is only i who lie there–insensate.

the stanzas whose broken promises
never quite make it past my tongue
embody loss and love and hope.
i try to bribe them with promises
of an audience, of fans, of adoration.
i try to bribe them with gifts
of alcohol, of money, of diamonds
but they just sit content and alone.

and i,
who am not content alone,
envy those poems inside of me
who refuse to be heard.