Michael Chang
this poem’s abt me. dead serious. loads of them are: no no zone, almanac of useless talents, fine w/o u, california one night stand, 500 horses outside at the valet, white ford bronco, awful ghosts, carnal flower, rasputin, my forever person, working stiff, sad boy public relations, garden state trick, bleu de chanel, white tennis shoes, suede kisses, internet boyfriend, simpatico, student-athlete’s college recruitment guide, leg of lamb, gin & milk, duck duck goose, still life w/ sunglasses at nite . . . it would be easier to list the poems of theirs i’m not in. they’ve been writing abt me for 12 years. i was one of their earliest students, way back when i was 19. totally fell in love w/ them & let them know it, although i was scared, before having to go home to texas & check into rehab. the whole ordeal left me spinning my wheels, afraid even to go to str8 spaces like home depot. found out a few years ago they’d written a number of love poems abt me. called me catullus, something abt my breath, described my bedroom as having the atmosphere of an operating theater. tried my best to contact them, but they wouldn’t say a word to me. performed my favorite exorcism & purchased shoes for dog. didn’t pay for my chipotle. abandoned tourists on the pier, most definitely high. still they kept writing these damn poems, claiming i’m terrified of intimacy. no, i’m a very intimate guy, have left a lot of bodies behind. hey, my eyes are up here. i get it, there’s only so much waiting around u can do. i want a family, not a fantasy. very much falling out of love w/ them. abt damn time. their stock is sinking fast.