Fred Aiken Writing

red wine gives me a headache

sipping on red wine
while waiting for a red moon
to light up a sapphire night
blinking in, breathing out,
with a drunken breath that regales
the choices found while walking
down some made-up boulevard,
crossdressing and selling cookies
made of lead,
though not for any nefarious purpose,
but rather to keep the stomach fuller for longer

pyramid scheme rule (a wicked ode to a wicked shape)

when i was in the third grade
and just learning how to m-ull-tee-pli
i told my classmates i
wanted to rule
rule
rule
the world, but only if the world was a triangle
and i could see all the angles
coming at me
at
all times times the square root of four
but no one ever thought to put down
their nuclear weapons to do the math
so that we could have a triangular world
that didn’t make me so damn dizzy,
like a merry-go-round
being operated by a felon named jed
missing a hand;
missed me, yet again

cell service in the matrix

buy this phone
eat this burrito
drive down the one-way lane
to a town that sells cell service
and all the crappers one can imagine
from here to the horizon
but just don’t get caught in the rain
and maybe stop referencing quotes
from that dumb matrix movie