Posted in eavesdrop, Poetry


It took twenty years but I’ve finally
gotten into the habit of making my own meals.

I’ve been a rabid reader my whole life
so I figured that the only real difference
between my love of magic realism
and kale, was the types of books I was reading.
After that, going to the gym three times a week
didn’t seem so extreme.

That’s all there really is to it.

Suki sees right through this, of course.
Even before I told her
about my lifestyle changes, I could hear her “nyet nyet-ing”
with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

“You rely too much on institutions, my boy Rutherford.”
“Could you go one day without making some
sort of obscene, divine offering of your body
to some non-existant spirit?”

I assure her
I haven’t been to church
since I was 12, that the only temple I
am concerned with is my body.

“Yea, but
you were raised Catholic.” she teases.
“According to Max Weber,
you’re not too far away from checking yourself into
a mental institution just to kill yourself.



Trying to find the right words.

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