Poetry | Fred Aiken Writing

i once lied to a girl i liked when i was in seventh grade that i liked nsync

because that was her favorite band and i was hoping that if i told her they were my favorite band too

then she might kiss me behind the k-mart parking lot

where all the kids in my class hung out and smoked weed, after-school-special like,

but instead she shrugged her shoulders, as if it was the most uninteresting opinion in the world,

as if i was the most uninteresting boy in the world,

and she was probably right about that moment,

since i had a difficult time thinking for myself at that age, this age too

morning moans mourning the lack of moments spent

mocking monumental strings of membranes

splattered across the sky, while muster stains look better

in day-glow raves while clenching a plastic bottle of water

and hoping the turtles don’t mind

keyboard strokes made to look hazardous,

when really the words rarely come out spelled correctly,

or meaning what i intend,

but maybe that’s the point, and i don’t want to be understood,

though that’s probably the chamomile talking,

it makes me kinda rebellious

Fred Aiken Writing