Bathroom Poem #1
My favorite urinal—
Third from the left,
Glistening white and pure,
Ready to receive me.
Bathroom Poem #2
that night in high school when
we streaked down my street,
who slept with whom last night,
or what she said after
you told her you loved her—
zipping up,
there is nothing more
romantic than pissing
next to
your best friend.
the fever and the fret
seven thousand months to make
a dent in time
the average person takes five thousand
breaths per day
nostalgia is a word
that should not exist
it was created in a hurricane
of lemon juice and whiskey
the bird, the plaintive tolling that
brings me back to my
sole self
fading so far away
from you
Untitled
Walking your pup
in the dead
of night
What have you been
up to?
Where are you headed?
The next morning I eat
buttered toast with
raspberry jam
breathing slowly at
the very thought of you
Nate Cabral drinks a lot of whiskey and reads a lot of Keats. He lives in Brooklyn, NY.