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  • Stepy Kamei

Three poems // Stepy Kamei

How To Cry In Public

Drive the car drive the car yes the light is green flick the signal

Turn turn the wheel onto Hesby street yes

Yes almost there almost at the garage here we go just

Gotta park just pull in the spot ok ignition is off now


Now breathe,

Breathe; now,

Step out and don’t forget your dog

Oh god a person’s there you can’t cry yet you can’t cry yet

Don’t cry yet don’t cry yet ok now you’re in the elevator

Which means you’re one step closer – one floor closer –

And now the doors are opening and run but don’t drag

The dog

Unlock the door unlock the door the goddamn key is caught


Now cry!

Come on now, you’re alone now (except the dog) so do the thing

Already, cry already, cry, come on now cry –

Texts Sent, Never Meant (With Translations)

to be honest i didnt your tidal descent begins and

know i was going to end may never end.

up liking you this much

i have never met someone like you i’ve had four beers now and

that makes me nervous i like you i do but

maybe im getting a lil too also i miss my manhood

deeep and my roommate is

reading into much laughing at me for

overthinking ruminating on your face

just freaking out a when we should be

teensy bit internally getting high like kites.

you are one of the most tomorrow I will tell you

confident, driven, down something that will shatter

to earth, creative, and your tattered soul.

passionate people I’ve i’m just a tramp really

ever met. I am honestly I am

endlessly fortunate to i’m no good

have ever met you and i’m poisoned soul food

no matter what i’m

happens, just know that so sorry but

you have inspired me i shouldn’t feel guilty.

tremendously. you believe me, right?


A wayward home

Won’t shatter any bones


askew and errant.

Consider all things odd.

They are fine things, but you’d turn them down

By way of lists; the worst

American language.

Micro-manifestos like this

Turn friends to histories, and statements to sagas.

Frankly, the

Majority of maps should be short, like

Live reports; things you’d read on the train.

People particularly like screen names. They are

Instructions; home-brewed recipes of resonant stories.

Truly great philosophies

Are found

In the whiz-bangs of wayward souls.

This is a found poem. Source: tl;dr magazine submission guidelines.


Stepy Kamei is a freelance writer living in Los Angeles. She holds a B.A. in Linguistics from San Francisco State University, and her poetry has appeared in Calamus Journal.

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