Grace Kelly

I know I’ve seen her before, dancing

maybe, or clutching a graying

Clark Gable, the tidal wave of her

blondeness fluttering into his mouth

But this is the first time I’ll remember her

and her lips, half open, like she’s been

holding her breath since 1954, the date

on the photograph. How could I

forget her profile jutting into her

reflection, as if it were whispering

“the only thing that can cut

a diamond is another diamond”, or

her loose curls swallowing the edge

of those immaculate eyebrows? I wonder

if the photographer thought the same

when he snapped off three quick shots,

The first click caught her eyes half open

and mouth closed, the second catching stray

wisps of hair as she turned to face him, and

the third photo taken just prior to Grace

sweetly telling him to get her good side, which, I suppose

is all her sides, save the bottom of her feet which

may have been bruised by ridiculous footwear.

It only took three clicks, but he took more anyways.

The Maid

She moves

her hand

from right to

      left to

clean

a mirror

that shows

the hand

she moves.

Spring is Broken!

So I've been watching Breaking Bad. Essentially, it shows Bryan Cranston as a chemistry teacher getting cancer and, reasonably, selling crystal meth to pay the bills. Cool show.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Distracted Sonnet

I've been having these weird daydreams: I'm like

a villian in a suit-and-tie

or a pro-basketball point guard who likes

the paint. I could be driving smoothly by

a burning church, thinking only about

the inevitable threesome between

myself, my ex, and Avril Lavigne.

Hearing the screams and the fiery shouts

of the hopelessly talented orphans

burning alive with a crucifix of

a six-second abs Jesus Christ above,

I am a hero all of a sudden,

kicking down flaming doors in slow-motion.

I drink and I have a lot of free time.