TEARS by Nathan Graham

When the space shuttle exploded,

I cried for three hours,

But was ashamed of the tears

Because I was twenty-six and

Shouldn’t be crying about the evening news.

 

When Holly searched for her cat in the rain

During Breakfast at Tiffany’s,

I cried for something like ten minutes

Before halting the tears

With a well-timed orgasm.

 

I cried when I lost my folks,

I cried when my kid was born;

I used an old baseball cap

To conceal my halo,

Convinced that blinking back tears

Would cause my ass to sag.

 

I was excited when the behemoth

Became dilated from its disgrace;

But waking up with no hair

Was never my plan

And hearing “game, set, match”

Caused my focus to lurch left.

 

There was no one to help me;

I was not on their list.

 

Nathan Graham is a geriatric rookie poet, recently publishing his debut poetry collection, "4:25am: Hypnopomia, Drool & Bright Yellow Pee" (Alien Buddha Press) at age 65.  He had not done shit before that book, and that's a tough thing for him to admit.  Nathan currently splits time between New York and Texas...and hopes to one day make up his mind.

 

 

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