"How To Fall"
by Leslie Soule
They say there's not enough love in this world -
So I decided not to worry
about the 15-page paper I've got to write on Neruda
and instead, I tried to fall in love.
I searched out form amongst the sculpted, coiffed figures
that passed me by and became sickened
by perfection and its influence on my tender stomach.
The queasiness would not dissipate
until I retched up consciousness into the trash.
The lunch room stank of base desires and unfulfilled potential
as I sat down to write,
seeking out my destructively angelic muse -
the one who eats Kit Kats as he throws blood on rainbows.
But he would not come.
So there I was, sitting like an empty gumball machine,
books piled on the table,
staring at me like scorned lovers.
Then I turned a page and fell in love.