Matt Mitchell

Pretty in Pink

stomach nothing but a sunset shaved     I hope we get lucky by coincidence
what was invented first          the wheel or the reusable razor
artificial insemination      or the improbability of its completion
if you could be a glacier          would you glow slowly or just be cool  

         teeth grind or continental divide           River or Keanu
binary stars                 Diet Coke prodigies                     silly bandz and HitClips
goodness, I just think of you   and can see that magic in your eyes
for you                     there’ll be no Submittable fees
and when you’re good and ready         the world will bend to your smile

don’t let your occhiolism show                              you aren’t a city quite yet
everything is all wild                                                  in the cleome brush                               
they carved your mitochondrial genome               off a mountain            
      to become an embryo       grown in a petri dish               under a Mexican sun
Blondie, please stay golden                    even thru chance
I know I am being alarmist     but if you leave       don’t leave now       
you are already my whole menacing hopeful electric heart

You’re My Gran Torino

the freezing rain falling on the air conditioner
sounds like a butterfly of soda fluttering in its can
while we watch Funny People again.

cigarette smell gets caught in the doorstop,
cars honk beneath the cleft of our living room window.
deer jaywalking across 4-lane traffic again, I’ll bet.

hey pause it, will you? I have to pee
and quickly retweet that published poem
I posted about 10 hours ago, again, for more heart clicks.

hey don’t forget to email the weather and ask
if we’re cooking at home or eating out tomorrow night.
I love you, too. yes, I promise. pinky swear.
okay you can hit play.

there goes the salt truck again. heading north this time.
the winters here are always so beautiful, aren’t they.

I imagine we could just walk outside,
catch snow on our tongues, slip on the slick
of a wet step, and fall into a hug of earth glowingly.

no, I’m not sobbing
because of the Wilco song on the soundtrack.
yes, I know that would be completely on brand for me.

it’s actually because of Adam Sandler’s character,
how he fears the universe is growing without him
and that he’s lost his shot at the whole our love is all we have thing.

it’s a totally reasonable and completely relatable fear.
no, I’m not going to metaphor that into a poem, I promise.

dammit, Apple News says Jupiter got another moon.
do you want to get married tomorrow?