Listen: xTx’s “Last Place
The somewhat mysterious poet xTx is the writer behind today’s Poem of the Day Podcast with a poem titled “Last Place.” You can find more about xTx at her blog No Time to Say It. Her first book is Normally Special.
For past episodes of the Poem of the Day podcast, go here. InDigest’s Poem of the Day podcast is sponsored by Audible.com. You can get a free audiobook download at AudibleTrial.com/InDigest. You can also get the podcast for free on iTunes and on the Stitcher, Smart Radio app.
Somebody should send me the top five best Mountain Goats Songs
I am like the Mountain Goats. I am like the feeling you would get upon listening to a mash-up of The Velvet Underground with the Moldy Peaches. Think about that. Feel that. Now, know that.
But I wanna be Beyonce.
Or Elliot Smith’s, Either/Or. Send that too.
I will never be Beyonce.
I am shit on a g-string. The g-string is pink. The color scheme would work in a newfangled baby’s room.
Talking, throwing things with drinks in my hand. My shaved legs. My tiny breasts. A way to get there. Birthdays. Stupid bangs and guitar hero.
Piss on a nice couch.
Not popular. That’s okay. (normal) Just LIKE me. Just feel like you’d like to make a recipe with me; a baked goods recipe or a breakfast thing. We can crack wise with our backs facing each other. There would be sun in our hair and we would break into fun dancing when good songs come on. Maybe something would catch fire or burn or flames would emerge from it and we’d have to throw it in the sink and turn the water on it and then laugh through the smoke and say You can’t fucking cook asshole! You should stick to catching flies with your useless gay mouth that sucks huge cocks! And then we’d hug and arm punch and talk about what we should do later and when you say bike riding I’m like thinking, hmmm…maybe and I don’t tell you what I’m really thinking we should do later because we are ‘just friends’.
It will run around. It will attack Downs Syndrome babies. It will have black eyes.
That is neither here nor there. The main point is, never discuss anything with me because I will tell you NO.
When I finally find my way home, there will be nobody there. That is when I will sit on the front steps and cry until my breath hitches. The colors will be grays mixed with hot yellow and lightening. After I am spent and the colors run clear I will push an empty shopping cart down the street filled with trash that blows past me and I will feel like the last one in the race.