Posted in eavesdrop, Poetry

finals week

The last time
I wore this pair of underwear, I got fucked
in the ass so deep they gave me deferred standing.
Imagine that.
All I had to do to get a break from school
was explore the wilder side of campus life.

I actually don’t really know what to do
with all of this free time now. Work on my papers?
Who do I look like, April? Look,
we don’t all want to go
to law school and save the world from itself.

Some of us
just want to coast on our trust fund and see if that cute boy
from Kappa Sigma can go more than two rounds.


Posted in eavesdrop, Poetry

glass jaw

Is there a thing you do
that you feel annoys people?

Mine might be when I get caught for plagiarising.
It’s not like I don’t know how to write
an essay or develop an independent thought, which is probably
what bugs my profs the most. They’d love to trot me out
to their conferences, the model student, maybe wax a little
poetic about some school of thought that’s been out of vogue
for a few decades.

But it hurts my heart

to think about being a cog in the neo-liberal
North American university system.

So I cheat.

I cheat every chance I get because it feels better
to be subversive and get chastised, than get a medal
for being just another fuckboi.

My mom wonders how the hell I’m going to make a career
out of being such a shit-disturber. She tells me
that if I want to piss people off, I should stick
to my father’s tactics and shave my beard.
Maybe she’s right, but my chin
isn’t built
to take that kind of reality head on.


Posted in eavesdrop, Poetry

cat herding

I’ve got my eye on this event happening
in two weeks: competitive cat herding.

It’s happening at the Coliseum.
Tickets are reasonably priced and come
with a complimentary adult beverage. The craziest thing
is that these dudes are actually professionals, no joke.
There’s a league with legit divisions and a playoff
and everything. Someone told me that the winner
of the championship game gets a year’s supply of free vegetables.
I wonder how you score a gig like that?

Sounds like a good way to meet people
and take them to bed—as long as you don’t mind the scratches.