I Cost $19.99 and Other Poems

By Travis Weis

I Cost $19.99

A raincoat drowns
In a never-ending sea.
I wonder if it remembers
The shoulders it once protected,
Or the winds it once broke.
Does it know
That nobody
Will ever touch it again.
Then I remember,
Raincoats aren’t supposed
To think of these things.
And so, I go to work
Come home
And I drown
In a never-ending sea.

Oh the Colorful Ones

If I had to put it in words
I would say who I am as a person
Could be fully defined
By the color emerald green and blue.
A complimentary clash of calm rage
Like the ocean during a storm.
Unstructured and unpredictable
Yet raw, and honestly soothing.
Emerald green and blue listens,
And offers wise advice.
All while being unable to control
The amount of green or blue,
Or the roiling ocean's godlike whims.
Emerald green and blue is a beautiful disaster.
It has something it has to become,
But for now, it’s happy
Just to be
Emerald green
And blue.

Projection

Each cloud floats.
An independent shade
From gray to white
Blue to pink,
And they’re beautiful
In their colossal enmity,
And the sky is endlessly full
As I am endlessly empty.

You

I’ve never seen the stars when she’s near me.
Actually, I’ve never seen anything but her.
She’s worlds away now,
And she’s read of the things I’ve done,
Though she hasn’t yet told me what she thinks of them,
She says I’m a good writer.
I think of how incredible she is,
Maybe once she reads my poems
She’ll finally believe me when I say
I’m not a good person.
I could try for four lifetimes
And I still wouldn’t be able to become someone
Worthy of her friendship,
Let alone her affection.
That doesn’t bother me though.
I’m happy as a very happy person
Just to be able to talk to her.
She’s not flawless,
And I’m not stupid,
But whatever compiles to become that beautiful person.
I’m thankful for every bit of it.
She works hard, and I don’t think she hears it enough.
Her dreams are too modest in my opinion.
She’s capable of anything,
And she deserves everything.
I hope she’s happy
Wherever she ends up,
But for now
She’s painting with a slight, focused frown.
Not noticing the glances I throw her way
As she taps paint onto canvas
Cocking her head to the side from time to time.
Carefully assessing her work
While I write this poem,
And hope she doesn’t read it
Yet.

Far Out Dood

Gently bobbing beyond the break.
Quietly waiting for my moment,
The moment I carve out my story from
Whatever wave mercifully robs me from my stasis.
For eons, I’ve tried everything.
Paddling for every bump bearing the slightest resemblance
To a wave, only to be passed over its crest,
Abandoned.
To be honest, at times I hope it never comes.
That way I’ll never have to bear the face of my potential,
But more often I want to ride.
However I’m afraid,
And in my fear, I dream
I’ll look out to the sea too late.
The wall of water looming over me,
And when I turn to ride my wave
The crest falls quick,
And digs my grave.

Travis Weis is a writer based out of Romania and from Minnesota.