Ignorance on the 10:50 CTA L: Revolutionary Email Poetry

I don’t know
what I don’t know.
But this much I know:
In Chicago
the train loops high,
then low.

In the sky
it’s El. Or L. But low?
I don’t know.
What the hell
is a Low
L?

Flashing past
through CTA train glass,
the words “Sweet”, “Loving” and “Kind”
sear my mind.

Should I ask
a local what it means?
Would they take me to task?
Would they come clean?

Because I know
that I don’t know.
And it’s not inert.
Being ignurnt hurts.

Weighted Numbers Weighting: A Revolutionary Poem

135: A number I remember from high school.
170: The number on my wedding day
180: A number I was when I tried — and failed — to negotiate back to
170: The number where I wanted to be to “get more…”
199: A number I was 15 years and 4 kids later.
200: The number where I screamed when I saw it.
210: A number where I stopped looking.
220: The number today when I bought the scale and looked again.
(530): A number of someone who inspired me.
190: A number I’ll gladly go back to.
(X): The number of years I’ll add to my life.

Woo More With HuMore?: A Revolutionary Email Poem

You said something true:
I do
have a great sense of Hu…
mor.
and Hu…
manity, too!
What would it take for you
to meet up with a Hu
Man who
might be as much (or more)
as you’re looking for?