Tag Archives: Metaphors

Smoke Detector

I’ve spent my whole life encased in plastic
awaiting tragedy. A light flashes
green to inform those near me I’m working,
processing only what’s in front of me.
There may be smoke in the next room, but my
battery is only strong enough to
monitor the here and now. Watch me hang
around contributing little to life
at night; ignore me completely during
the day when the threat of a blaze isn’t
as great; turn me off around dinnertime
so you don’t have to deal with my shrill voice;
protect yourself and everyone you
love by replacing me at least yearly

New Girlfriend

I had a new girlfriend,
with lips full and bright,
but then I lost my job
and she had no insight

on where to find work,
and so even though
she said she’d support me,
I told her to go.

So I got a new girlfriend
with much bigger eyes
but she wanted a choice
for her dinner one night.

I said that was cute, but
I knew what she wanted.
She stormed off and left me
right back where I started.

So I got a new girlfriend,
and things were so great
until we had a baby, which
kind of ruined our dates.

It cost too much cash
to provide for all three,
and I felt I deserved to
keep all my own money

So I got a new girlfriend
who cost me no more
until the end of the night –
just another cheap whore.

And then she made me ill,
so I found me another
who could take care of me
like a boy and his mother.

Then things got all weird
when she felt like I owed her
for helping me heal,
so I found me another

new girlfriend, just like
that first one long ago,
but she still wasn’t perfect
so she still had to go.

The Collider

In seventeen miles of tunnel
scientists in the world’s
biggest basement
train set
finally found
a good time.

The physics version
of tasting both jellies
of a chocolate eclair
and a Boston creme
sent into one
sub-atomic donut,

magnets and
laser beams
push microscopic streams
time and again,
make perfect
jelly ring inside.

Twenty years of science
collide in one moment
my only question:
when do we
get to eat
the donut?