authenticity on prom night

While scalding my tongue on a Grande-Extra Hot-No Whip-Soy-Six Shot Espresso-Four Shot Hazelnut-Vanilla Latte from the least authentic of places, the Starbucks that is attached to the close Whole Foods (the other is a 20-minute drive, and with gas prices these days, who can afford the trip, much less the food?), I said to my self, "Self, what are you?". And, while still sipping the offending beverage, I realized my faded skintight jeans and ironic tee paired with pink ballet flats, obnoxiously bright scarf tied in a way that is just too complex to do and takes twenty minutes every morning (so cool that now even Jezebel is making fun of it) and vintage biker jacket, and glaring through sunglasses so big a majority of my face is obscured, we are all the same. Hipsterocity is no longer authentic, thus the ultimate irony of a style's demise: designed with the intention of not caring and being one's true self, is so hip now that everyone is doing it-- from the soccer moms to the 2.5 brats they're toting around. It's an atrocity I tell you: "my authenticity has been stolen," I think as I down the rest of my latte that has now reached a drinkable temperature and walk out. At my car, I see the woman who dropped the eggs a few days ago glaring at me, too bad she tucked her skirt into her hose, hag.

unhygienic restroom practices

Grabbing my wrist-

so narrow, your nephew could wrap his hand around

(and he did, last night, at the cinema hesitant

to remove

his gloves for fear of impropriety and

frostbite)-

was a classic unnecessary gesture.

Calloused and cracked and

crying for a covering of lotion,

which I have and you could have

borrowed,

shackles

made of snow topped

with bloodied cuticles

that I did not bloody

touch.

I fear you do 

not wash your hands upon exiting the restroom,

otherwise my gloved palm

would be in yours,

despite being quite adept at 

crossing the street without assistance (I

have been for quite 

some time) from you.

But, that is disgusting and now

my wrist-

so gently held this evenings' past-

needs at the very least some

Purel, 

which I have and you could have

borrowed. 

I would let you, after your hands were cleansed

of course.

untitled

right now you are snoring.

ordinarily this would be endearing,

but i am exhausted

after chasing the children all day.

i did 

not choose to carry 

your genes into the next generation.

as much as i love you,

there should not be more

of you.

please, purchase those strips that lay across

your nose

and open your sinuses.

i am exhausted.

i love you.

but i need to sleep.