Weak End Stateliness

If you’re unhappy, I’m unhappy,

milk hits the kitchen floor, with

a sound like water pouring down

a plastic ramp, I touch your arm

as you wish your life was better,

too many cars, you think; when

I ask, you tell me that your mom

was in a cult, it’s a funny story;

I’m a caged tiger, a wishful logic

built upon ageless math equations

and equitable investments, truth

in lending and a bootleg pass to

an all star, as we both raise our

glasses, our hands fall to our sides

and we kiss the motionless text

that washes its body in front of

our mouths, liquor lips and cinch-

ed ships, cost barons and one

tragic see shanty later and we are

floating like geese on a majestic

blue satellite, teetering and slosh-

ing like the milk we accidentally

stepped in during our dance, then

our eyes meet, and melting planets,

fragrant meadows, and juniper gin

antagonize our rhythmic undulation,

and you make fun of me for saying

“undulation,” so I flip off the lights,

and one more weekend is finally

edited and dropped on the floor


Hey! Thanks for reading. Like this poem? Check out my chapbooks on Amazon.


~ by Shawn M. Young on September 16, 2016.

4 Responses to “Weak End Stateliness”

  1. Gotta say, even though I’m a bigot for rhyme and tight meter, I think this is awesome. My favorite bit: “we kiss the motionless text that washes its body in front of our mouths”

  2. Very interesting, very well done, good read.

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