TWO PROBLEMS

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How do I tell you that you're shitty at yoga?

How can I let you know?

How do I tell you that you're shitty at yoga?

Without making you get up and go?

How can I keep my new email password secret?

Since I told you my old one?

And now that you're used to snooping through my mail,

How can I cut you off?

Without appearing like I have something to hide?

I don't have a porn habit!

I just want to be able to gossip about you with my friends.

But how can I tell you 'no'?

Without making you get up and go?

Oh lordy loo

What can I do?

You're shitty at yoga,

And you want my email password too!

"'sperm whales in space'

was stamped upon her cheste
with a smile and a stare
that sultured in the air."

painted on the refrigerator door with a felt pen and puddles of ink. i'll never forget the way in which he looked as he turned his head: toward my face with his face and remnants of an early mustache, his nose and his lips and his forehead and his cheeks.

"you have sturdy bone in your head" i said.

"yes" as his eyes slid up into mine.

HOOOOOOOO BABY

THIS IS MY POEMATION FOR THE NATION

IT'S ABOUT THE TROLLEYS

TROLLEY SOUP:A POEM
BY CHRISTOPHER TROLLEY EILERS

TROLLEY SOUP
IT'S LIKE A GROUP
OF TROLLEYS
IN A BOWL
IT'S TOO BIG THOUGH
THE SPOON WEIGHS A TON
AND CAN'T BE LIFTED
NOT EVEN FOR FUN
BECAUSE IT COSTS WAY TO MUCH
AND WEIGHING THE COST
AGAINST THE TASTE OF TROLLEY SOUP
I'VE DECIDED AGAINST IT
THE PROCESS HAS ENDED
THE TEAM HAS GONE HOME
THEIR FAMILIES ASK QUESTIONS
ABOUT MY MOTIVES
THEY AREN'T PLEASED EITHER
IT'S SOMETHING THAT COULD'VE BEEN GREAT
AND IF WE GET INVADED BY A
RACE
OF GIANT
TROLLEY EATING
ALIENS
IT WILL MEAN INTERSTELLAR PEACE
BECAUSE NOTHING TAMES A STRANGER
UNDER THE GUISE OF INVADER
LIKE SOME FREE SOUP

THE END

I WOULD LIKE TO DEDICATE THIS POEM TO LINDSEY LOHAN, BRITNEY SPEARS, AND PARIS HILTON, IN THAT ORDER.

NNNNNNNNNNNnnnnnnnnn

NOPE. YOU GET THIS INSTEAD.