aplus
06-09-2005, 09:40 AM
http://slumz.boxden.com/showthread.php?t=304692
Please crit...hate it or love it. I am trying something a little different in this one, and I am trying to write my way out of (another) writer's block...1
Misplaced Mexico
After minutes of disregarding it,
I finally acknowledge my obnoxious alarm,
realizing that I’ve dozed off
in an uncomfortable position,
arms crossed atop my chest,
the way vampires sleep in movies,
so I wake up with a lukewarm shower,
then munch on a cholesterol-, sugar-, and taste-
free muffin, all before I get dressed in a smart suit
and travel on a congested highway,
contemplating continuing my southbound drive
for another two thousand miles
deep into Mexico, where I could
make a modest living peddling crappy artwork,
and slurp margaritas while I soak in the heat,
where I could learn Spanish by immersion,
all the slang and naughty words first,
where I could wear sombreros with excessive brims,
and romance a curvaceous senorita,
eventually getting married in an ancient chapel,
but once I assert the possibility of my getaway,
my car is already parked near
the abomination of architecture where I work
and I’m seated in front of a desk
looking at a Scotch tape dispenser,
an unorganized stack of Post-It-Notes,
and several urgent phone messages,
all of which seem important
now that I’ve misplaced Mexico.
Please crit...hate it or love it. I am trying something a little different in this one, and I am trying to write my way out of (another) writer's block...1
Misplaced Mexico
After minutes of disregarding it,
I finally acknowledge my obnoxious alarm,
realizing that I’ve dozed off
in an uncomfortable position,
arms crossed atop my chest,
the way vampires sleep in movies,
so I wake up with a lukewarm shower,
then munch on a cholesterol-, sugar-, and taste-
free muffin, all before I get dressed in a smart suit
and travel on a congested highway,
contemplating continuing my southbound drive
for another two thousand miles
deep into Mexico, where I could
make a modest living peddling crappy artwork,
and slurp margaritas while I soak in the heat,
where I could learn Spanish by immersion,
all the slang and naughty words first,
where I could wear sombreros with excessive brims,
and romance a curvaceous senorita,
eventually getting married in an ancient chapel,
but once I assert the possibility of my getaway,
my car is already parked near
the abomination of architecture where I work
and I’m seated in front of a desk
looking at a Scotch tape dispenser,
an unorganized stack of Post-It-Notes,
and several urgent phone messages,
all of which seem important
now that I’ve misplaced Mexico.