i will be your boys in Southie
riding the ten-speed my father bought me
down the center of the street
thinking of his raised tan fist
on christmas last year
somewhere ‘round Hyde park tonight
lamps have blistered to burst
under pressure of sinking myths
in my lousy Atlantis
so i focus on the faded yellow lines
in attempt to guide me home
nothing i love looks quite like this big stray dog
in heavy coat of fur i pass
the pedals turn to roots
slick sound of my spokes
flat on the rear tire and
my heart is racing
matching pace to when his palms coined me
for the very first time
some movie star did an accent in this recent film
sounding just like my father
like that father
like the father
in hand to mouth images
this actor smells of champagne
new bruises just beneath the green ones
placing postage on his body
just the way i was taught and
i wonder how his rough hands may feel
living lonely in my bedroom some nights
bleeding into each feeling
dynamic in this dog-eared playground
near the townhouse where i first spoke
until the cold-hawk sun hits his windowsill
splitting clouds in youngest skies
studying a list of all the ways
the rainbow of curtains in a different room
pouring pigment over these hands i own
trembling softly
carving into some small dumb oak tree
red is my favorite color and
you know this
you were never worth
the bleach
on the lower half
of my body
a ted-talk regarding my contribution to the kink community
good lord
disclose all the personal information you catch wind of
regarding your friends and acquaintances
but nothing about yourself, please
because i'd rather not fall in love with you
by the chain-linked CN train-yard
near this brand new eyesore of an underpass tonight
graceful girl with a ballerina's body
don't mean she's lean like that
but she certainly is cradling a dead woman
who happened to dance professionally
pick up the telephone you are already holding
in your left or right hand
we met on a wrong number
it could happen again
when i walked in the room
they were googling
alternatives to phrases such as
"jesus christ" & "oh my god"
this is such a tremendous thesaurus
buzzfeed article ideas since u been gone:
12 ppl we don't deserve to miss for these endless embarrassing reasons
15 apologies we play out in our heads daily that will never be enough
which character from rugrats best represents your clinical depression
9 full house memes that will help you forget the trauma they caused
23 reasons why i am not okay & they are all that you are married now
we were waiting patiently for a cab in the cold
holding hands
the first & last time we read
haiku poems about your cutest outfits
when you told me to
"be less sad about this"
i am not proud of you because we have nothing to do w/ each other
i say it
i say the entire thing and
that bothers you
but somewhere in your life
someone did the same
i can only imagine
your six-letter taste of chalk
rippling off each cell of their expression
used to melt your mouthful
dirty up them teeth
breaking up slowly like urban decay
boxing chains wrapped 'round denim haw
watch the walk from eleven storeys up
down bay from new sins of catastrophe
telling you to look away
from your oh-so human reflex to rubberneck
rivet lips sewed into the boat-line
calling me nicknames in spanish
this nomenclature stuck for years
the first time
it was awkward
lateral stars drawn on coughing up trust
when i loved even your morning breath
it made me feel both right and real
but i haven't learned a thing
Justin Chase Jones is a soft child poet living in calgary, alberta, canada. they have previously published work through sea foam mag, spy kids review, pajama party zine, bottlecap press & vagabond city lit. they also post work via their youtube channel & blog at youlostthestarlightinyoureyes.blogspot.ca.