Monday June 6, 2016 at Starbucks
Poetry Is Dead Magazine
Issue 01 Volume 05
There wasn’t a whole lot of proof that Ingrid and Raymond were meant for each other.
Ingrid preferred to eat outside, Raymond preferred to eat in.
Ingrid wanted to visit the kids in Vermont, Raymond wanted them to come to the cottage.
Ingrid told Raymond once that she didn’t have any idea how two people who loved each other as much as they did could disagree as much as they did. Raymond told Ingrid once that the only reason why they didn’t see eye to eye was because they were meant to be teaching each other.
Ingrid liked to write letters by hand and send them in the mail. When the two of them were young, Raymond worked overseas for two years and Ingrid asked if he would write to her.
Raymond didn’t like to write much; his penmanship was hard to read and that frustrated him. He told Ingrid that even if he didn’t send her a letter he would send her something and not to worry.
Sunday June 5, 2016 at Moksha Yoga Vancouver
from the online grading centre
Mary-Beth had big dark circles under her eyes from being up for the last 72 hours without so much as a nap. She had been working the case straight through life as if that would distract her from the fact that her life at the moment, was in shambles. When Leah called her from their mother’s house to tell her that she was worried, Mary-Beth put her on speaker phone so she could keep her hands free to manipulate the evidence board. The call went something like:
“I don’t think she’s going to make it till Friday, M, you have to come now.”
“Oh that’ll be nice, let’s take her to the beach one last time.”
“I’ll set it up.”
Saturday June 4, 2016
from a receipt
-You can’t come in here, it’s restricted.
-Restricted to what?
-Uh, employees? It says it right there, ’employees only’?
-So I work here.
-No you don’t, I’ve never seen you.
-Maybe I work when you’re at home sleeping, snuggling up to your body pillow, pretending somebody loves you.
-What, you don’t have a body pillow?
-Who the hell are you?
-I told you. I work here.
-Tell me right now or I’m calling the cops!
-Yes, you’re severely creepy and I don’t plan to be one of your next weird victims or something.
-Yeah like whatever your deal is, I’m not into it.
-I don’t know what you mean.
-Like your mind-reading, people-reading weird-creepy-psycho-shit.
-So you do have a body pillow?
-That’s it, I’m calling the–oh my god.
-Let me guess, you don’t have your phone.
-How did you know that?
-I told you, I work here.
Friday June 3, 2016
The Intent To Live
My laziness smells like a scab
Like the way a bad avocado tastes
Like the way tomorrow
My laziness was
By a good teacher
Who wanted me
To do well
When I confessed that I
Didn’t start the things
That I meant to start
That I waited for
I thought I was
Calling out my own flaws
Before anyone else could get
The chance to
She told me that
It wasn’t laziness
That kept me
It was the fear
Of wanting a thing that didn’t want me back
But the sound of it