SECRETLY A NINJA

what i mean to say is
that there’s this something
that lurks in on ya
and just sticks around
and you know
like
does stuff

it mixes things up
kind of
it’s just
it’s hard to explain
nevermind

okay
you know when
you’re at the grocery store
in the middle of the night
and everyone looks like zombies
zombies in pajamas and burkas
and yoga pants buying cigarettes
or a carton of ice cream
or trying to stealthily purchase condoms
from the self-checkout

underneath the fish tank lights
you know
security guard at the door
someone is pondering the mystery
of the gatorade end cap
anyways
you feel it then
that loneliness that makes you feel not alone
it tugs at your heart strings
and if you’re me you hurry up and purchase your
something stupid
maybe incense and toilet paper
or a lean cuisine
but you buy it all
and you go to the liquor store
and you pick out some beer
and you go to the register guy
and you take turns pulling your
conversation pull-strings
my night is fine, and yours?
and no you don’t need a receipt
and you’re home
television off just sitting on the couch
thinking about stuff
and if you’re me you wish you would have
hugged everyone but at the time
you were convinced no one would talk to you
because of your resting bitchy face
which may actually not exist
but what i’m saying is
there is something there
something that can’t be written down
something kind of odd and beautiful
creepy slash off-putting
it’s like a b-movie
and no you’re not the star
you’re an extra
but that’s exciting
that’s really fucking cool
because you’ve never been an extra in a b-movie
and you look around
and all these people are extras in b-movies
but they’re secretly ninjas
and so the fuck are you
and that’s why your gut writhes in the daylight
in the moonlight the sunlight the black light
the grocery store fish bowl lights
your guts writhes
because you wish to be a ninja
but you can’t find your god damn nunchaku
and neither can all these other ninjas
pretending to be extras in a b-movie

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2015

TOMORROWLAND

i was crippled by what i saw around me
a world that i so badly wanted to call foreign
but i knew in truth it was i that was foreign
i looked at my hands like they were someone else’s
as i trudged on through the immaculate city
lights all around me
i felt as though something was looking down on me
i felt the strangest of sunbeams
and the giant camera of god
zoomed down onto my separate story
i was living in the garden of the future
time moved forward i was engulfed in dream
i’d seen it before when i’d closed my eyes
the realization that you are in a singular moment
and everywhere at the same time
there was a swarm of birds living in my stomach
i was living in the garden of the future
my heart beats distant and echoed
my eyes like gamma rays
i spun out of control
it was everything they said it would be
it was what i’d imagined
vast and quiet
a single frequency of white noise
volcanoes in the distance like stone lions
at a doorway

i woke up in a dream of the future
and as i looked around at the dunes of my fears
as i wandered in singularity through the forest of my hope
i realized this was no garden of the future
this was the shadow of the past behind me
and in that moment i mourned the death of the moment
in that moment i mourned the death of me

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2015

RECTANGLE STATE

i am enchanted in waiting
i make sandwiches
run rubber erasers across paper
i draw a dot drawing of your face
made up of one million dots
congregating to form my memory of you
as you are gone
lost at a crossroads
i worship your shadow
realizing not even the sun
can capture you

i understand you may never happen
you may get lost in a whirlwind
me lost in another whirlwind
not a single raindrop of intersectionality
but we can hope adjacent whirlwinds
i like your whirlwind adjacent to mine

i send you short love letters
you send me love
my tongue is colloidal silver sure
but my heart is stained blue
and meanwhile yours is an open locket
mine need crowbar mine need leverage
maybe your leverage the best leverage
of your hand on mine on the crowbar

i drive in circles in a rectangle state
i listen to andrea gibsons breaths in my car
i dream of you counting her breaths beside me
driving in circles in a rectangle state
love is sometimes
that’s it sorry
love is sometimes and i am saturday morning
poem leaking faucet
and the faucet keeps leaking
and some nights it keeps me up
with its potential to change
but most nights the fact it is there
is enough to put me to sleep
in your arms
which may or may not be

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2015