Raine Marie

by Horror Sleaze Trash on August 20, 2012

Raine Marie is obsessed with designer shoes, indie rock music, drinking café mochas, and dyeing her hair crazy colors. She spends her days pondering the meaning of her life, daydreaming about unobtainable men, and writing poetry that is too revealing for her own good.

This pencil eraser is Great Brittan.

 

Never pee in front of a guy on the third date.

I don’t recommend shouting oh fuck

while frustrated at playing a stupid board game either.

It doesn’t help he held the same kind of reverence

for board games that many people reserve just for Jesus.

Blame is a two way old school brick street.

He was the one who turned up

at my door on a second date wearing a utility kilt,

which is apparently a synonym for little black man skirt.

As my eyes fell upon him when I opened the door

I had one of those moments,

the kind one knows they have been

building toward their whole life.

My years spent complaining about always being

“the man” in my relationships, was always building

to that moment where I was literally

the one wearing the pants.

The fact it flowed out and fluttered as he climbed

The parking garage stairs did not help matters either,

as neither did the boner he got under it halfway

through the night.

Nor did the fact his pockets were too small

for his stuff, so I kept his phone in my purse,

which is clearly an ideal Freudian meaning

if I ever heard one.

The evening’s absurdity climaxed when

he asked me to hold his bag of spicy nuts

while he adjusted his  “kilt” upon standing, at

which time I made clear those would

be the only nuts he would place in my hands that night


Previous post:

Next post: