thought I'd post some more creative crap. unlike most of my poems, I genuinely like this one.

Nutmeg

We sit on the dirty rug
Stoned out of our minds
Listening to some bisexual
Folk singer, I don’t know who
And flying high above this
Dingy midtown apartment

We laugh about men
We cry about men
We color Scooby-Doo
We ponder the peeling paint
And find fluffy rabbits
In the brown water stains

Maybe we should go to the
Grand Canyon, spend weeks
Staring at the stars and reading
Rimbaud while we try to catch
Fish and end up resorting to
Beef jerky sustenance

Then again, maybe we’re both
A couple of phonies, two cubic
Zirconias pretending to be diamond
Reincarnates of the beats, Cassidy
And Kerouac maybe—but does it
Matter, as long as we believe in it

Time will tell as we age I suppose
If we act in bit plays and spend
Our last pennies hitching to the
West coast with gray in our hair
And crow’s feet from so many
Years of laughter and smiles