Fred Aiken Writing

October 24, 2021

Studying Sicily

the great moment of converging energy streaking through the self-checkout lane

as some woman pockmarked with a skin rash across her check

and who probably listens reminiscently to Bill Haley and His Comets and Buddy Holly to

remember a time when she was still loved unconditionally by someone, anyone, out there in the void

take a ticket, please, and don’t lose it, or you’ll lose your place in

an endless line, processing each item of yours and rashy woman’s body

to ensure the tone and timbre of your body tones

isn’t too loud, or offends too many people, less someone complains,

I kinda hope they complain,

so I can be taken out of here and pass the time with listening to Fleetwood Mac and

studying how many versions of the Sicilian can make me look like

I, you, and rashy woman knows what we’re doing

October 24, 2021

Axiomatic Apologies Graffitied Across My Chest

I don’t feel comfortable looking at myself naked in the mirror,

so I could only imagine what my wife feels like with me sleeping in the same bed as her,

an amorphous blob filled with carbon, meat, and bones

that have been poorly taken care of for the past, what, now thirty-two years, damn,

has it really been that long, which is what you tend to say when you aren’t old, but you’re not young either,

you’re just sitting in the road contemplating 401(k)’s and a trip to Vegas to gamble whatever money you forgot about back in 2012 when you bought a couple of bitcorns as a laugh,

then realize your stupid financial mistakes might not always be the dumbest thing in the world,

but dammit, no matter what my bitcorn fortune might be, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a gutless piece of meat sweaty awkwardly through a life I just stumbled upon and still don’t know what the hell I’m doing, though hoping some talking head will take their head out of their ass long enough to tell me,

though needless to say, I guess what I’m trying to say is “I’m sorry”