Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

I sat
staring at my walls
trying to decide where I should go eat.

Sometimes it’s easier to go out among them all
than others.

I sat for at least 20 minutes,
arriving at nothing.
This is stupid, I thought,
Just fucking go SOMEWHERE...

& they were Michelangelo clouds as I left,
Sistine Chapel clouds,
big, voluminous, booming plumes,
radiant, & leaking precipitation...
I was lost in them.

I drove past a tennis ball & later a dead cat,
bloody-impact-spatter,
mangled-legs-awkward,
& thought, Goodgoddamn,
it’s never gonna be easy,
is it?

At the sandwich shop I decided on
they were out of the bread I wanted,
out of the green chile.
& it took the guy forever to find the new, special sauce for my
                                                                                   sandwich.
He lust kept looking & looking, finding nothing.
The register girl told him, “It’s in the back fridge, on the
                                                                       right side...”
& he still couldn’t find it.
People had to pass me in line.
The register girl knew exactly where it was but
wouldn’t go show him.
She just stood at her register.
It was all pointless.
Finally, he found it, returned,
& squeezed too hard as he poured it,
dumped too much on,
tried to spread it with a knife &
when that didn’t work,
he pulled off all the cheese & vegetables &
started over...

Electricity hummed through the lights &
terrible music played &
little girls came in with their fathers &
they were bright & shining & undiminished
& outside, the clouds grew darker,
the sky grew darker & drained,
watercolor-drizzled
downward,
evaporating before
impact...

I ate my sandwich & remembered I needed
a stick of deodorant--
the one I’d just recently bought burned my armpits
so I stopped using it &
just stank.

Inside the huge store there were young mothers,
tired of eye, ragged of soul &
they were short with their children,
just “NO”s & “STOP IT”s.
I found the aisle & stared at the overwhelming selection,
rows & rows & rows of deodorants,
some tubes,
some aerosol cans,
some clear,
some chalky-white,
& they had all sorts of names,
RIGHT GUARD & DEGREE & OLD SPICE & SPEED STICK & IRISH SPRING
& they made all sorts of promises
LONG-LASTING & HIGH ENDURANCE & ELIMINATES ODORS
& they had all sorts of scents
SPORT & POWDER FRESH & COOL BREEZE & SURF & MUSK & ORIGINAL
& of course I couldn’t decide,
just stared blankly for probably 2 minutes.
Jesus Christ Almighty, this is pathetic…I thought
& grabbed something cheap near the
bottom.

At the register
I smiled at the young cashier
& she did nothing, just told me the price
& I gave her exact change &
left.

On the way out
at another register
I saw a couple I knew,
a gal I used to work with & her man who I’d met once or twice,
they were nice people, I liked them but
I pretended not to see them &
just kept walking,
& I really don’t even know
why.

Outside, it was finally dark.
The clouds were silent granite smeared silhouettes
& I headed back to my place
& the clouds were still
too high
for the rain to
reach
ground.