Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

She was coffee shops & happy beginnings,
he, bars & happy endings.
After his sown oats
were ready to be tamed into oatmeal,
he realized that the strings of
no-strings
one-night
all-nighters
had been the raisins
but the manicurist—
with her raging perk
for this aging soda jerk—
was the cookie.

He was the King of Tautologies,
she, the Queen of Brevity.
When they crossed paths
on their way to the Capitol,
she soon became sick of him
spelling everything out for her,
even as he grew tired
of trying to read between her lines,
so they parted as frenemies,
where he ended up writing for cable news,
she,
for newspapers,
as people were willing to watch (if not listen)
a lot more
than they were willing to read.

When Dr. Sawbones met Dr. Jawsmith,
Saw had a bone to pick with Jaw
over her silver fillings turned green,
making Jaw want to fight her
tooth & fingernail,
but when it came down to it,
Saw didn’t have the backbone
& Jaw didn’t have the bite.

Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

She was coffee shops & happy beginnings,
he, bars & happy endings.
After his sown oats
were ready to be tamed into oatmeal,
he realized that the strings of
no-strings
one-night
all-nighters
had been the raisins
but the manicurist—
with her raging perk
for this aging soda jerk—
was the cookie.

He was the King of Tautologies,
she, the Queen of Brevity.
When they crossed paths
on their way to the Capitol,
she soon became sick of him
spelling everything out for her,
even as he grew tired
of trying to read between her lines,
so they parted as frenemies,
where he ended up writing for cable news,
she,
for newspapers,
as people were willing to watch (if not listen)
a lot more
than they were willing to read.

When Dr. Sawbones met Dr. Jawsmith,
Saw had a bone to pick with Jaw
over her silver fillings turned green,
making Jaw want to fight her
tooth & fingernail,
but when it came down to it,
Saw didn’t have the backbone
& Jaw didn’t have the bite.

Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

He was a cat burglar,
she, a dognapper.
When they were caught bird-flipping
& tossed into jail for petty theft,
they decided to revamp their image
by turning vegan—
only to revert to their old ways
to pay for all the supplements
& mock meat products
they now had to buy.

Sullivan’s Travelogue

He was a true-crime writer,
shining a flashlight on the darkness
of human hearts;
she was a romance humorist,
writing feel-good stories
that set hearts alight.
He saw her as an intellectual lightweight—
until he met her & realized
that the world needed her stories
because it was already full of his.
He gave the world what they already knew,
but she gave them something to believe in.

When the Mothers of Invention
met the Fathers of Reinvention,
they—
with their book smarts about schools
& street smarts about prisons—
created a generation
who could rock the jailhouse
& roll with the sucker-punches.

Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

When Mr. Math Whiz
met Ms. Spelling Bee,
they were at odds,
which put them at ends,
because for him,
everything had to be equal,
even as for her,
everything had to be spelled out.

She was bus schedules,
he, flight plans.
She ate out of brown paper bags
from the Dollar Dive,
he, off white china
not made in China.
When her bus turned over
& his plane went down,
they were the sole survivors
whose guilt
pointed them in different directions–
towards one another–
& they realized that what class & education
had separated,
spilt blood & broken bones
had brought together.

He was suburban scrawl,
graffiti-style,
she, exurban murals,
kiddie-style.
When they made
a cosmic connection
via a sandwich artist
in Seedy City,
they painted the town
in every shade of red.
To him,
it was just red,
but to her,
Seedy was now every shade
in the Revlon rainbow.

Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

He was a running gag,
she, a walking joke.
She appreciated that he never grew stale,
even as he appreciated her ability to stay fresh.
When they pooled their talents,
it got pretty deep,
& they enjoyed not only a life of laughter
but of physical fitness.

He was known as the party animal at the frat house,
she, the merry-go-round at the sorority house,
& when they crossed paths—
his, in a zigzag pattern,
hers, through the football field—
they met their perfect match,
for she helped him sober up
with a passing grade on a paternity test,
even as he made her into an honest woman
through honor codes, pledges, & a loyalty oath.

She was an all-American black-&-white cookie,
he, an English ginger snap.
They were the favorite royal subjects
of the press on both sides of the pond,
& so it only made sense that their creation
would black, white, & red all over.

Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

She ran an ice cream parlor,
he, a funeral parlor.
When they went on a double date
with a couple of California Rum Raisins
whom they didn’t give a fig about,
she found that he didn’t mind her cold hands,
even as he educated her on the difference between
a creamery & a crematory.

When Vertica Elle & Horizonta Elle,
fraternal (if not sororal)
twin sisters of the Axis family,
decided to open competing libraries,
Vertica, with her stacks,
& Horizonta, with her scatters,
Vertica triumphed,
with her 5 storeys to Horizonta’s 1,
for she proved that going deep
would always trump going wide.

Mr. & Mrs. Smith
had made it their life’s mission
to keep up with the Joneses,
but when the Joneses
went viral,
they decided to
socially distance themselves
from these fat cats—
who were all whiskers
& no beard—
& minded no one’s business
but their own,
realizing how blessed they were
to be able to do so from home.

Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

Jack Went Up, Jill Went Down

He was a mountain climber,
she, a social one.
He treaded over treacherous terrain,
she, over treacherous,
sometimes lecherous,
people.
Nature was as unpredictable
as people were not,
but he would take being put-off
by the weather
to having to put-on
for anyone.

Siggy was a psychologist,
Jane, an anthropologist.
He saw people for their minds,
she, their matter.
After a bottle of chilled champagne
& two dozen oysters on ice,
some cerebral gymnastics
& bone jumping that was quite fantastic,
she looked down at him & said,
“You love me for my matter
as much as I love you for your mind.”

When American Coffee Mug met English Teacup,
it was contempt at first sip,
for Mug thought Teacup was an old bag,
much too steeped in her own snobbery,
whereas Teacup thought Mug was crude
& much too unfiltered,
but when they were bounced out of Canada
for disturbing the Justice of the Peace,
they expatriated a second time,
ending up in Australia,
only to end up getting iced.

Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

He was chess,
she, checkers.
He was Ivy League,
she, bowling league.
While the former appreciated her
like a museum exhibit—
a look-see into a ferly world—
the latter saw him not so much
as out of her league,
but as her way out
of the bowling league.

She spent her life writing her memoirs,
he, painting self-portraits.

They were 2 of a kind,
for she saw her readers
as wanting to be her friend
or live a life like hers,
even as he saw his viewers
as either wanting to look like him
or wanting someone who looked like him.

He was a blacksmith,
she, a wordsmith.
The objects he crafted,
people had to hold in their hands,
but the words she created
could be held in their hearts
simultaneously.

Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

He was always crunching numbers,
she, digesting words,
& together,
they made up a complex word problem,
describing an outlandish scenario
that would never occur in real life.

He’d sought Kodak moments,
she, Instagrammable ones.
Even though each believed
there was more merit in their medium,
they still managed to capture
the magic that was in each other—
his, in telling a story
& hers, in writing it.

When Fiddle met Violin,
they each believed they were better
than the other,
for Fiddle was preferred by the dirt poor,
Violin,
by the filthy rich,
until they realized
that they still needed their bows
to make their bodies sing.

Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

Opposites

The Shutterfly edition

Bubba was checkers on the front porch,
Barron, chess in the parlor.
For the former,
the kings ruled the board,
the latter,
the queens,
but for 99-year-old Smithy Norville,
anyone who could move backwards,
forwards,
or diagonally
had the all power,
for they could cut a rug
like Fred & Ginger.

He was the king of mugshots,
she, the queen of Glamour Shots.
She helped him make love to the courtroom cameras,
even as he taught her how to BOLO for Bertha,
who fancied herself as Bubba’s main squeeze.
His photos ended up on his momma’s fridge,
even as her gilt-framed portraits ended up over her father’s fireplace,
illuminated by candles on the mantle,
which explained why Lefty Shakes & Merlynne Munroe were
the way they were.

She was the Countess of Persiflage,
he, the Earl of Earnestness.
She was as funny
as he was funny-looking,
& they made a living off each other—
with her making fun of him
& he,
making her life less fun
with his habitual heckling.