Franigirl.com
Francine Witte, Poet and Fiction Writer
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Mark Larsen
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Mark Larsen works in market research and in his spare time writes poetry and performs stand up comedy. He lives in New York with his girlfriend and swears up and down he has never been happier.
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A Girl Caught Me Staring A girl caught me staring at her today and said, “What are you doing?” “I’m writing a poem about you,” I answered. “Would you like me to add anything in particular?” “Can you make me pretty?” “No problem,” I said. “Can you make me smart?” “No problem,” I said. “Can you make me the kind of girl who inspires poets and painters? Causes countries to go to war? “No problem,” I said. “Can you make the poem rhyme?” “Nice talking to ya,” I said.
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Blues For My Red Follow and find me Haunt and mock me Like a moon jumping over rooftops Always there In unnamed neighborhoods At the crossroads Of Times and Square In the middle of Broadway On the street formerly known as Prince Oh hell, baby Every corner was our corner All I can do is hum along Feel the bass of your love Loose in my rib cage Thumping me back Into all I need to know
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7th Inning Stretch You’re not gone yet, but when you are, I will sprinkle your ashes over softball fields in Central Park. Do you remember telling me that’s what you wanted? We sat on a bench, father and son keeping score on a Saturday afternoon. Someone hit a shot so far over the left fielder’s head that it rolled to a stop at your feet. You picked it up and threw it back into the game. I realized then you did not throw a ball that well. I could probably throw a ball farther, and harder, than you. An inning later you turned to me and said, “When I die I want them to sprinkle my ashes over these fields.” The ‘them’ you referred to will be me. I’ve never had to sprinkle ashes before. I wonder how you do it. Perhaps it’s a bit like adding salt to soup, or barbecue sauce to ribs – no recipes. I’ll bend down, pick up some infield dirt, taste it, and know I have just enough of you in the ground.
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