Raymond Cavanaugh

My Ex-Girlfriend

She’s just recognized me 
on the street.
She waves and now 
she’s heading over.
She’s wearing the same 
outfit as when
we were last together. 
With a bounce in each step, 
she comes to me,
eyes open wide in welcome,
lips stretched in a smile of familiarity. 
I can’t help 
but get a bit sentimental 
when I think of how 
she’s going to 
turn around and walk off 
when she learns 
I don’t have enough money 
on me tonight.

You Can Take My Body

When I die,
I want my self
stuffed with strobe lights
and used
as a nightclub piñata, 
where, 
beneath my expressionless face,
the drunken and blindfolded 
swing sticks 
at my dangling limbs,
tearing my corpse
and sending the strobe lights
to scatter
like fiery ash
across the floor,
while people keep dancing.