Category: Poetry

Chuck Walk

LOST? STOLEN? RUNAWAY?

These Chucks have been spotted in the streets of San Francisco, bearing the steep streets and sidewalks of the city they have been abandoned. What the story behind these pairs are? We will never find out. However, regardless of the scene their in, they do look good. Do the Chuck Walk.

 

I have a dilemma.

I have a dilemma.

For the past several days, a small, brown spider has been making random appearances in my bedroom.

It started just a few nights ago – I was sitting up playing some Dragon Age Origins at 3 am, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and my Chucks (of course), when onto my keyboard crawled this curiously shaped silhouette.  Wondering whether or not I should chalk this one up to my imagination, I flip on my desk light and this little fucker is staring me right in the face with all eight of his devilish eyes.  Now I’m not the most squeamish dude when it comes to insects, but HOLY FUCKING SHIT this spider’s creepy.  He seems well aware of my presence – crawling onto the spot where my fingers would surely find him amidst my all-night gaming session.

Now I know what you’re thinking –kill the bastard and be done with it- but I got this rule in my house against killing spiders.  You see, I can stand having insects in my house; and seeing as spiders kill other insects, we form a sort of alliance in a “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” sort of way.  But this alliance becomes strained when spider start crawling all up on my keyboard.  Still, for the sake of preserving the peace, I let him go that night.

But the spider kept making his presence known as if he was mocking my grace and disregarding his good fortune.  The next night, I see him crawling up my bedroom wall in between posters of the Beetles and Bootsy Collins.  The night after that, he makes another appearance on my desk just below my monitor.  The night after that, he’s crawling up my speaker wire.

One of two possibilities: either this spider has a death wish or the bastard’s taken a liking to me.  Either way, it’s not gonna work.  Even if the little guy has a thing for me, I tell him like I’ve told many of my flings in the past –I ain’t into having a one-sided relationship.  It’s time for me to send this mofo to spider hell so he can kick it with Charlotte.

But it can never be that easy, can it?  My room is barren and I find myself with a distressfully lacking selection of weaponry with which to slay this arachnid.  With such a restricted arsenal, my choices come down to two: mash it with my hands, or take it out with my Chucks.  Ok, I’m not about to get spider guts all over my hands, so that’s out the window… But if you think that I’m gonna scuff up my Chucks just to save myself from a potential spider bite, then shit, you must be crazy.  By the time I find a tool suitable for the massacre, my friend had retreated once again into the shadows.  And now here I sit, awaiting the return of my tiny stalker…

And so spider-bro, our Mexican standoff continues.  Maybe one day the time will come for our final confrontation, but when and if it shall be is unknown.   Just be thankful that you live to roam in enemy territory another day, and be damn grateful that I wear Chucks –you owe your life to Mr. Taylor.

Old Sneakers

why is it so difficult for me to
throw away
old sneakers?
 
they are clearly too
dirty and torn up
to be worn
anymore
 
anyways
 
they’re probably
out of date
out of style
feet
out of room
 
eyes no longer
holding strings
to cover tongues
that keep souls company
 
remembering times one shoe was separated
mud-swallowed off
from a socked foot
 
when beer stains caused
flashbacks to
drunken shows
 
when morning soggy sneakers
were reminders of
rainy puddle nights
 
just because my sneakers and i:
 
trudged through mud,
went to concerts,
got in fights with puddles,
and walked me home from
sloppy nights
 
does that make them my old friends?
would i throw my old friends away?
never
not even if they smelled this bad
i’ll just keep them in this box for now