Not 50, but 51 Shades of Grey:: A POEM


Not 50…  But 51 Shades of Grey

Lurking behind your toilets, your microwave, that coffee maker you refuse to clean.

A dark spot that looks funny and wakes you in a scarry dream,

that awful dress shirt you wore back when you thought Fonzie was Famous.

The smell you’d describe of the scent of something heinous.

The sky in Connecticut, and the color your heart turns from living in debt.

The strands of stringy hair on top of your grandmother’s head, and those mystery hairs that appears in your bed

New winter fashion nail shellac,

Jansport’s 51st anniversary backpack,

Steel when it weathers,

Fly Fishing feathers.

Your first car that you flipped, halfway down your mile long driveway

After a rough storm, and way the clouds look covering the bay.

Those high-heeled boots on an older dude

The unusual color of Chinese food

The ominous shadows that lurk in the bars, the faded skyline scattered with twinkling stars

The tire treads that came to a screeching hault, the bruise around your friend’s eye, and the piñata that wasn’t your fault

Moldy bread,

Bottom of a pan,

Fizzy, bubbly swig from a diet coke can.

Victoria Secrets new bra and panty set

Your wallet with no money it

The highlighted pages that seems prophetic.

Microphones, bedazzled cell phone cases, eye shadow on teenybopper’s faces,

Discolored fruit, you still eat it, and the aftermath of how it tastes.

Dust bunnies, that scurry away, when the duster comes out to play,

the paint in a sultry nightclub scene, and the color of the crowd singing “just living the dream”

Strand of pearls around her neck, the tape on a broken skateboard deck,

Duct Tape.

Silverback Ape.

Moldy Grape.

We live the shade of day, all in the color of disarray, not just 50, but 51 shades of grey.


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