Fred Aiken Writing

Tag: Poetry

September 26, 2023

THAT TIME WE LISTENED TO THE SAME MUSIC AND LIKED IT

i don’t remember the exact day we met,
but that’s a lie,
because i have the moment ingrained into my head,
playing on a loop on the hook of my hippocampus,
that sounds a lot campier than it actually is,
because i assume that my memory of you is probably false,
or at least distorted,
like the fraying edges of a daguerreotype 
that survived a coupe of house fires
and that one time an ogre wandered into the backyard
and mistook the memory of you as something edible
before realizing that this wasn’t a fantasy world,
and the reliance of mythological creatures
isn’t helpful when trying
to pinpoint reality with perception

September 26, 2023

COMMITMENT; OR LACK THEREOF

i committed to doing three pull-ups every time 
i pass by the door frame into my office,
not because it’s helped, you know, strengthen me,
though i suppose it hasn’t hurt, either,
but mostly because i miss jumping up and down
as a child without a care in the world,
and jumping up to the pull-up bar seems like the 
closest i can come to such a feeling 
as a thirtysomething pretending to not be out of shape
and tortured by the weight of adulthood

September 25, 2023

CUTS ON MY LEGS

i keep getting cuts on my leg,
but i don’t know where they come from,
though i have my suspicions,
and those suspicions mostly involve my cat,
who doesn’t like when i sleep in past 6am,
because i’m the one responsible for feeding her,
and petting her, and doting on her,
in the early hours of the morning,
and i don’t think my cat has a lot of patience,
or any concept thereof,
so, if i hit snooze on my alarm, then, i suspect,
i get a light scratch across my leg
that seems like a big ole mystery,
but really it’s not, it’s barely worth mentioning,
though i still think i’ll share this thought with you,
nonetheless