“Black Friday“ … (underground poem from 2014)


@ 4:01 a.m. I awoke to the sound of the alarm,
my husband`s voice asking me for a divorce
I showered, and cried,
got dressed, and cried
jumped into my car, and cried,
drove through StarBucks, and cried

‘I can`t fake it anymore’ he said
‘I meant to ask you yesterday’ he said
‘But the Turkey looked so good’ he said
‘I figured I enjoy your cooking one last time’ he said

dodging through empty traffic,
a lady slammed on her brakes
I spill Cappuccino all over my lap
the malted liquid burns through my jeans
the pain like Sugar Plums pounding in my head

I tossed the empty cup out the window nonchalantly
like my husband tossing ten years of his life with me
I glanced through the rear view mirror
lights are blinking colors of Christmas

‘It`s a crime to litter, ma`am’ the cop says

‘Just give me the fucking ticket!’ I snapped

I snatch the ticket, crumple the ticket
like it was my husband`s dick
and toss it at the cop`s face;
the stench of foul piss sweat on the cruisers back seat
reminded me of our honeymoon
in our dingy motel room in Rio

I pled guilty to a disorderly conduct

‘Because I have to go shopping’ I tell the Judge

then I babble, babble, babble
Thanksgiving, Turkey, Divorce
I’m let go with a hefty fine.

@ 6:01 a.m. I fight my way through the Christmas rush of
screaming mothers, crying babies, depressed fathers
edgy girlfriends, reserved boyfriends, jealous singles
in search of that magical gift,
that quintessential gift,

that ‘please don’t divorce me’ gift

but I end up at the food court
downing more Cappuccinos than I could swallow
contemplating suicide on Santa’s lap
texting my mother, blaming my father,
swearing at my happily married sister
amidst all my chaos of becoming “Mrs. Ex”
I pull myself together
I think about the good, the bad, and
the extra-curricular of my marriage
now sitting beside me choking on a cancer stick

‘What did you expect?’ he says
‘He was going to find out sooner or later’ he says
‘You said that that’s what you wanted’ he says

I flick the cigarette from my lover`s lips
the butt grazes an elderly couple strolling innocently by
they don`t feel the threat of burning death lingering
on their ultra chic vintage clothing
I hiss, then I sigh out, then I start to cry
wondering why my husband couldn’t have waited
till after Black Friday to divorce me?
my lover tries to comfort my tears
but they just fall, fall, fall

‘It`s going to be alright’ he says

‘It`s not that’ I say

‘Then what is it?’ he says

‘Promise me you won`t ask for a divorce on Black Friday,’ I say

I sound desperate like once slugging my way from the past
of shoppers once killing themselves silly over
Tickle Me Elmo`s and TalkBoy toys
my lover then laughs and crosses his heart then uncrosses it
he takes my hand and we stroll through the mall
dodging shoppers drowning in oversized shopping bags
weeping invisibly behind maxed out credit cards while
having to go home to their spouses to explain their infidelities;
I rest my head against my lover`s shoulder
thankful that I didn`t have to explain mine.


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