Listing Loon Set: Numero Dos.

Here’s another one for you.  2/7.  I wrote this, as dated at the end, in August.  I was in Jersey City at the time.  I’d broken up with my fiancee two months prior, and just started dabbling in millennial “dating” (oh yeah, scare quotes).  I had Tinder, Bumble, and whatever that one for ladies is called (Brenda? Deb?).  I ought to write a whole thing just about those experiences, but here’s a poem to put it vaguely and succinctly.  Enjoy, if you like.

Meat Market: An Ode to Tinder

first we start with proxy
are you close enough for 3am
for one and a half bottles of wine
and poorly applied lipstick

I don’t suck dick, sorry

boys, girls, we apologize if you’re
in between/neither
there isn’t an algorithm for
albeit this app is transitory
never mind your identity

except your profile is great
and your face, don’t get me started

I always open with a gif
so you know I’m funny and relevant
please be funny and relevant
also open, be open
be an open door it’s been so
long since I’ve been invited in
a subtle gesture to my fear
of my sacred femme being a succubus
yes by that I mean my body is
by that I mean I have needs
by that I mean I want to know
you as a person there’s such
a light in your eyes or is that
just a filter either way you seem


17 miles away?

I’m tired.

god I’m so tired and hungry and lonely
be close
be safe
maybe we could just lie in the nape
of each other’s necks, I’lll worry about
sleeping in my makeup while we talk
tattoos or Trump or the constant
locomotion of time and the inevitability
of trauma

first we start with proxy
are you close enough to be
torn asunder?

August 9, 2016


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