Poet Authority Poem Terminal

An endless roll of pastries being torn in half.

She thought it best to just end things.

And set about trying to bring on a nuclear war.

But it was 30c or something like that.

So my head was filled with heat.

And I couldn't think of anything.

I thought about turning on a fan.

But then I remembered I couldn't think of that.

So I just sat there and let fluids leak from my flesh.

Still empty!

He visited the local branch on his way to a game of baseball.

Let them know about the issue.

The blade tumbled toward his feet.

Life flashing before his eyes.

His reflexes,

Aided by the imprecise tumbling of the knife,

Saved the day.

Mack was fine.

Though he never stopped thinking about the moment.

And would tell the story to any willing to listen.

Moved in with the local owls.

They came to accept his presence.

Asked him to look after their eggs.

Probably.

He couldn't be sure because he didn't speak their language.

But it seemed like the polite thing to do.

So he forged ahead.

Frank became jealous.

He hated being less successful than his cat.

He quit his job.

Sat there depressed.

Trying to thinking of things he could do to become a meme too.

Carly requested one scoop of stracciatella.

She observed the person in the dopey hat,

Slowly hovering towards her choice.

He plunged his spoon thing into the chilled substance.

And resurfaced with a thimble.

Carly slapped her car keys on the counter,

Grabbed the offering,

And trudged off.

Contemplating the price of this stuff.

Flint had forgotten how to count.

He felt the pressure mounting.

His opponent's judging stare.

He considered packing the whole thing in.

Flipping over the table.

And watching the little coloured discs scatter over his opponent.

Kevin bought a basketball hoop,

And a basketball.

And looked forward to owning a house to bolt it to.

He hoped to grow a foot taller too.

That might help with the new aspirations.

His mouth had to be scrubbed,

Manually.

It felt sad.

He felt sad.

He made a note of this event in his diary.

Imagined his grandchildren reading it one day.

Their tears splattering the pages.

And then he remembered movies exist.

He put one of those on instead.

Gave his book a new life as a coaster.

He told his wife about this.

He told her the flavours too.

And he told her that in America they call crisps chips.

Which he felt added a little culture to the conversation

She nodded.

He had to apologise for all the things he'd typed into it.

And all of the things he'd made it look at.

The computer looked irritated every time Bill wanted to check his emails,

Glancing down at the little clock in the bottom of its screen as Outlook loaded up.

'How am I supposed to have guests without podcasts'

He pondered aloud into the void where a microphone could be.

If he was still around.

And Charlie Dimmock,

If she was still around.

He imagined how people would be talking about it.

About David getting his ear pierced.

And how he would go out and buy earrings.

He hung it in his living room,

And stared at it for a while.

Wishing he'd bought a TV instead.

He began chasing it down the street.

On this journey the sun on his dome.

It felt glorious.

Dotty's pace dropped.

He plopped himself on the nearby grass.

Watched as his wig vanished into the distance.

Leaned back,

Unbuttoned his shirt,

And took selfies with his glistening scalp.

He massaged it,

Told it how much he loved it.

And wondered how much more money he'd have to invest in sunscreen.