Five Poems, by Tatiana Ryckman

ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH AN EMPLOYEE OF THE DMV?

You are in luck! It is easy to spend many long hours at the DMV, where you can be close to your love. Pack a picnic, many arrive at the DMV prepared to enter a long-term relationship. Bring a mariachi band, this will be sure to draw the attention of your beloved. Approach their desk with accordions flashing. Lay out the lunch you have prepared, feed your love grapes one at a time, and if they call security put up a fight. Surely they are just playing hard to get.

ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH THAT GAME ON YOUR CELL PHONE WHERE IF YOU LINE UP MANY GEMS OF THE SAME COLOR THEY EXPLODE, LEAVING IN THEIR WAKE A SPACE QUICKLY FILLED BY NEW GEMS? 

Take your body outside. Leave the phone inside, in easy view. Watch it through the window. When it cries do not go inside to pacify it. If your roommates use this opportunity to post photos of their genitals to your social media profiles, let them.
Do not sleep—you must keep vigil.
Watch for three days at the window of your existence. If it grows cold, build a fire. Only when everyone thinks you’re dead can you come back to life.

ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH THE SHORT HAIRS GROWING INTO LONG HAIRS UNDER YOUR ARMS? 

Pet them gently at night before sleep. Sing to them the lullabies you haven’t heard since your own mother sang them to you. Explain to them the rotation of planetary objects, why the sky is blue, and how Santa Claus works.
Want more for them than you had for yourself. Push them to work hard in the face of adversity—it’s for their own good. Do not use conditioner. Do not read books on how to show you care, only you can know how to perform your love.

ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH AN ARTIST? IS IT COMPLICATED? DO YOU SOMETIMES LEAVE THEIR APARTMENT FEELING LIKE YOU’RE IN THIS RELATIONSHIP ALONE?

Ask yourself: Is this my apartment?

DO YOU LOVE CHIQUITA OF CHIQUITA BANANA?

Get a wife.
The one you have will do.
Buy also an overhead projector from the state surplus store and a fist full of runts from the machine just inside the bowling alley foyer.
Stand your wife against a blank wall and blind her with the light of your projector. Spill your runts across the glass and let your heart sing as fruit dances merrily around her—your bride.

Tatiana Ryckman is the author of the chapbook Twenty-Something and Assistant Editor with sunnyoutside press. Her work has been published with Tin House, Everyday Genius, and Hobartpulp.com. More at Tatianaryckman.com.