May 6, 2025

An exercise in repulsion. Originally published on Tumblr circa 2014. Remarkably, I’m a happily married man. God bless her unruffled soul.

Online Dating Profile

Forgive me, madam
I couldn’t help but notice
you staring at my ancestors.
They are not for sale.
They are, however, collectible.

If we haven’t met, I am the One.  
If we have, I remain convinced it meant something.

My glovebox contains a ceremonial kazoo.
It has never been used,
but I have reason to believe
it once ended a relationship.

I am bound by law to disclose
a fear of upward mobility,
and the the solemn diplomacy
of pajama pants.

I am a bear inhabiting a man suit.
I am fluffier on the inside. 
Mother says I have a nicely orbicular head. 

The balkanization of my sock drawer
was prophesied but no less disconcerting.
They are always feuding, vacillating.

My hobbies include:
Pinching the rolls of your skin
as a sign of affection and/or dominance,
conducting monthly Stranger Danger simulations,
weeping beneath ergonomically sound chairs,
and omnipresence.

My dislikes include:
work/sleep/wake/bathe 
As a general rule,
avoid monosyllabic activities. 

This is my magnum opus.
You are reading it.
My therapist calls it “a start.”
She has no tongue.

I have some dollars.
They exist in a hypothetical wallet
guarded by a raccoon named Jerome.
I’ve been told I must surrender
something with intrinsic value.
What does that even mean?

I exist in a purely legal capacity.
My youth group pastor once told me
that I am statistically superior
to most other mammals.

Imagine returning home from work,
mouth open like a baby bird
as I organize our letters in soup
and regale you with bespoke
interpersonal conflict resolution advice
until sleep takes you by force.

I’ll be here, stirring the soup until you’re ready.
The spoon has already agreed to cooperate.