The Backside of Everything You Will Never Think About

Posted by on Jan 12, 2015

Roving the lounge

I roll up to a family

with one of those dual seat strollers

and make my introduction, viagra sale

“Are those two ‘youngins’ twins?”

“They are almost Irish twins,” says the mama.

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Irish twins?

I’ve never heard

of that one

what does that mean?

 

Says mother:

“In order to be an Irish twin you would have to be born within twelve months of your sibling. But these two were born thirteen months apart.”

 

“Hmmm,”

I hmmm, realizing

my Dad and aunt are Irish twins.

I’ve got tell Dad

how he’s spent seven decades

probably not knowing

this part of his identity.

 

The things you can learn

when you go twin watching

at the Pfister.

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I really have met a lot of twins

by roaming the Pfister.

The very same day

as near-Irish twins

I meet fraternal twin siblings,

Levon and Levona,

almost two-year-olds

pausing for pictures

with the lion twins.

Now, what kind of twin are the lions?

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There’s a hat on the bar

beside a mostly empty coffee.

Snappy hat—

red black grey feather

leather hat,

probably smells good

but I don’t sniff stranger’s hats,

taking pictures of them

is enough.

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This quiet evening with the curtain in a knot

inspires me to write a birthday note.

I know three people with birthdays today

that I’m going to give this to:

 

“Happy Birthday to the missing tooth

and the room with no people in it

and to the shrink wrap bag

with nothing shrink-wrapped in it

happy birthday to the backside

of everything you will never think about

even with a search engine

and fifty widdle five-year-olds

who ask about when fish feel sad

and what is inside the popcorn kernal

to make it explode?

Those kids always talk about eternity

but I’m talking about the backside of eternity

and I’m wishing it a very happy

a berry merry birthday.”

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First I give this note to Birthday Bridget

along with my spare Tom Thumb typewriter.

As we sit on the orange velour couches of the lounge

my friend Natalie exclaims

this line thrice:

 

“The hot cocoa here, oh!

Thick and rich!”

 

She can’t believe how delicious it is,

or how she’s ordered hot cocoa

all over the city—

disappointing hot cocoas

concoctions of wateriness

contained in styrofoam cup

contrasted

to this whipped cream crowned cocoa,

of thick quality chocolate

that leaves rings

formidable

frappe-esque stain

inside ceramic mug.

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