Stupid Moon
by Maggie Mitchell
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What do you do when your memories get underfoot?
You're walking along minding your own business
And you smell aftershave
Or hear a ring tone
Or see a stupid moon
That takes your breath as suddenly as a punch to the gut
You close your eyes and drink in the delicious pain
Of the first kiss and the last kiss
And the way breaking up left you
Having tantrums in the shower
Where no one could see or hear you.
You know how memory leads to memory
And you wind up face to face with Asshole.
And in your dreams you beat him bloody
But he never loses his supercilious smirk
And you stand paralyzed as your brain replays past intimacy
Like a pop-up from a porn site
That as fast as you try to exit out
Pops up another scene
Until at last you throw up in your mouth
And pull the plug out of the wall.
You shake your head like a punch drunk boxer
You thank God for the former that healed you from the latter
And you toast the stupid moon with a rather large piece of chocolate cake
That you will also later regret.
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