Brown Paper Bag Interlude Poem by Alexandra Reiss

Scholar of
conflicted thought processing-
a joke
that doesn't even garner
a courtesy
laugh.

Corrosive liquid
wells up in
borrowed
bedroom eyes.

I am branded
savage.
Loneliness
the bread of my
affliction.

Brainwashed and soapwashed
thoughts as innocent as
barn raising with
the Amish.

I stand apart from
these clueless
sun-worshipers
who see heaven in a bush
on fire.

Art is
a decent alternative
to God.

Forget your
bedspread Jesus;
bi-polar saint—
dead man blabbing.
A deadly apparatus.

In a town of
dimestore windups and
defective theologist imitators,
I prefer dinner
alone.

I am the
conservation of momentum.
Considering therapy, also,
the curve of the earth.

There should be
a clinic
for
citizens so
profound.