This Isn’t About Weed, Tacos, the Inevitability of Deadlines, or Last Night’s Untraversable Weather

This Isn’t About Weed, Tacos, the Inevitability of Deadlines, 
or Last Night’s Untraversable Weather

This isn’t about weed, tacos, the inevitability of deadlines
	or last night’s untraversable weather

It’s not about things that just fall out of the sky 
into a temporary fate that gets measured in inches

or hard shells vs. soft due dates or trying to decide if I should write this thing
for tonight’s FBomb or throw on another episode of Friday Night Lights 
	and get stoned 

(Why does the world have to be made out of nightmares and mantle? dipshits and crust?) 

It’s not about Qdrops, Cameron Crow movies, or Ben Affleck farting into his own Batsuit 
every time Jared Leto picks his nose like the film world’s most horrible Joker

(Why does the world have to be Jared Leto fucking up my favorite Blade Runner movie?
Why can’t the world be made out of watching Friday Night Lights with you instead?)

This isn’t about Hasbro dropping the ‘Mr.’ from Mr. Potato Head
re-branding a beloved toy from my childhood as simply: Potato Head
which sounds like a not-so-popular sex act
instead of a goofy potato with a penis wearing a hat

Potato Head
It just sounds: filthy 

This is not about using such things in a sentence, such as:
	The not-so-loving-couple was tired so they decided to stay in, 
watch 4 hours of bad HBO Justice League, and give each other Potato Head 
until one of them eventually screamed “Enough!”

This isn’t about a busted record needle, Steven Seagal Skittles,
or a Kate Bush cover band called Kate’s Bush

This has got nothing to do with sentient casseroles, genital sucking robots,
	or welcome mats that are actually trying to say goodbye

(Why aren’t we drinking tequila again right now? Why can’t the solution
to all the world’s goddamn problems be us staying up all night, drunk diving
into old Beatles songs and inevitably ending up naked on a bearless-skin rug?)

This sure as fuck isn’t about my distrust of the cloud, my fondness for listening to Jake E Lee songs, or the goddamn internet getting drunk on the job

This is about calling an audible during a cuddle fight
and you telling me to "Get down there and do what you're known for"

Organ solos vs. un-solo'd orgasms

It’s about ending this thing earlier than expected because I was writing this
in an internet based notebook and the internet's shitting out all over this particular block

It's about only listing two more things that these things are about 

The moon looks like a clipped toenail
and I miss your feet 

written for last night’s Fbomb, 4/20/21, zoom reading