Laura Garrison
These poems were composed with my phone’s predictive text function, which has been trained on scifaiku, speculative flash, anxiety-ridden texts, and elaborate grocery lists.
- - -
We’re going to the movies.
Let’s bring a can of beans!
I love the way you wear
your eyes on your face.
Here is my favorite recipe
for disaster: take any day
from last November and
add some onion and cloves.
The vegetable garden
is full of leaves and fish,
so I’m glad you are here
to be the arbiter of snails.
- - -
Reality is not quite what I expected.
Sometimes there are squishy things.
No one reads my emails, and I can
never go backwards in time
or down to the bottom of the lake.
The rest is okay, though.
- - -
There are too many flies
in the mailbox, and I have
some questions for them.
How have you been?
What are you waiting for?
Where is my family?
The pumpkin has no face.
I will not be adding this day
to my Amazon wish list.
- - -
Thank you for taking care
of the dandelions.
The only way to get rid of
the old ones
is to wait for the bus,
unless you want
to meet them at the end
of the world.
- - -
Hold me like a baby
goat cheese sandwich.
You don’t need to talk.
We can just be here
and be loved.
This is the end
of my song:
I hope your island
has some green
tomatoes.
- - -