POEM: “Fight Club Redux”

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Fight Club Redux”
--aka “it’s your own damn fault if it’s spoiled; the movie’s been out for ages”

in the darkness, the grass glitters 
with crystallized condensation
when i walk outside to let 
my dog make her mark, as though 
the stars vaguely luminescent 
in their spheres had fallen to earth 
frozen, their heat lost to predawn chill

later i watch Fight Club for the 
n-th time, catch myself thinking 
how very very nice it would be 
to have a friend like Tyler to hang 
around with on shitty nights in 
a shitty house, or sharing drinks in
a shitty bar, but without the assault
--gut punched by metaphor alone

imagine a friend, even imaginary,
that’s always there through thick, through thin-
ning nights and thinning hair,
trading jokes and insults and 
guttural laughter no matter 
how many times they’ve heard each 
clever wordplay,  each dumb pun

someone who listens--does not simply wait
for your part of each conversation 
to end, someone like Bob to hug you
with his big-ass bitch tits, or Tyler
with his right hook to greet you. 
3D Virtual Reality’s 
got nothing on the brain. We can make 
ourselves believe, we make ourselves 
believe anything - - - -

even that the stars glistening 
in the darkened blades of grass 
are beautiful despite my canine’s warmly 
flowing contribution melting 
them before their time, readying 
them for a sun they will never 
see just beyond that horizon.

*I recently rewatched Fight Club, and though it’s not exactly a Halloween-themed movie, I thought it was close enough for today’s post. Happy Halloween! 

If you’d like to read about my progress and plans for this year, as well as craft tips, you can subscribe to my Patreon and support my work for just $1 a month! Until next time, stay safe and well, and read often!

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