March 10, 2015 by rebelwithalabelmaker

This is a story about someone I met in foster care, with some details changed. Okay, one detail.  For today’s #UULent word, which is change.  Interestingly, you guys hate the poems, according to the stats (probably because they are not funny.  The poems, not the stats.  Also, the stats).  Anyway, this poem isn’t funny either.  Unless you count a guy dying by having a vending machine fall on him (which didn’t actually happen).


it is a stupid way to end up in foster care
her father’s fists slamming against
the glass of the vending machine
rocking it back and forth
some things are too big to be
tampered with

she tried to tell it like a funny story, for a while
sometimes laughing can be like
coughing up phleghm

but that horrified people, and she wasn’t ready
to tell it any other way

so she just stopped giving details
it wasn’t the whole story,anyways

foster care doesn’t really happen in one moment
he wouldn’t have snapped like that if it hadn’t been
his last couple of dollars
or if he wasn’t so

if he wasn’t already a man with
fists for hands

and she wouldn’t have ended up
that string of ironically titled “homes”
if he hadn’t been
the last coin in her pocket

we have made an awkward friendship,
she and i
i recognize the way she shapes her words
for effect
building up my affection for her

because someday she might need it
i don’t begrudge her, how she
pick pockets me in this way

sometimes it is easier to steal
than to receive
i know what it is to be constantly
asking people for spare change

these pockets full of metaphorical coins make her footsteps heavy
when she walks
they jingle, like
sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh

i dreamt she was standing
at a vending machine
trying to remember the buttons you press
for comfort

i know that there is no such thing as unconditional love
fairy tales of loaves and fishes do not impress me, but

i also know that there is more to the world than this
heavily processed
vending machine affection
that eventually fills you
with cavities

there must be other types
of change

3 thoughts on “Change

  1. I’m feeling all cool because I like this poem way much, even if the stats indicate I’m an outlier. Keep writing! Please keep writing!

  2. Same here. I love your stuff.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: