White People Problems

I sit on a coffee table,
reading a letter from
a depressed girl
and I sigh
at lack of a response.

My compatriot
hands me a beer
and we cheers
to the sky
and white people problems.

Your barista gave you two pumps
of vanilla when you wanted four,
I'm sorry, but that isn't real.

You choose to be a vegetarian
when there are millions
of people who would die for meat
or food of any kind.

These complaints
and choices
are white people problems.

I just realized this poem
is a white people complaining problem,
how's that for meta?

The point is,
the metaphor is,
that there are real problems
and just superficial bullshit,
you choose.

Static Gates

hit my head
on the city
at night.

need to find
a home
and call it right.

what you don't
know about me
will fill the East River.

coffee at midnight
in Midtown
safe somewhere.

in another life
I was a building
about to be torn down.

flamingos find me
no matter what
and I am pink.

so stick me electric
in the static gates
and forget to forget me.

I walk up
when I wake up
in uptown nouns.

what you know
can only mean
one thing to me.

spray today
with turpentine 
and drink it to make your pee smell like roses.

In a Science River of Secrets

The slit oak episode.
The thing that works for you.
Listening to Cady Wire.
Just another day to die.

I bribed a woman.
Back in Boca.
But she left.
Before I could convince.

Just down the street.
from your hotel, baby.
Virginia attitude street.
I fall for love and everything like apples.

you were there

acknowledge us.
on 17th street.
temple and beard.
white wine and stairs.

c'mon little collar bones.
there was a fool so slowly.
and I tried to write everything.
and I am still a yard.

glass hours.
stubborn and still here this year.
eye need you to be.
there, falling.

love is not a luxury.
but it is a preservative.
especially with song and on.
stupid writer, Iron & Wine, and breath.

Record Store Day So Keep Me

Op Ivy.
And a bench tattoo.
For you.
On my bicep.

I have saved so many of your voicemails.
Hands reversed.
And cool for sure.
For the future.

Racers vs. runners.
Livers vs. lovers.
I still want you.
So bad.

Questions in a Big Bookstore

Hey Barnes and Noble
how do you keep on working
especially while I dance through
the aisles, stashing copies of my bastard books
upon your shelves
and stealing copies of my friends' books?

Is that a question or a rhythm,
something like a lady in a love song,
but more of a dance party USA jingle
with eyes of passersby wondering who am I?

Just a little scream from the poetry section, 
an Elvis song on repeat in the Best Sellers area,
and a collapse of every employee,
exhausted from benign questions and stupid selections.

Just a shopping center,
just a bathroom and a dream,
just a crayon fire that lasts forever,
too many books, not enough life. 

Hey Barnes and Noble
how do you keep on working
especially while I dance through your Starbucks
and hump the magazine racks in the back?

I will rip out every page 32 in the building
and settle softly in the discount of your love,
while listening to St. Joseph's by The Avett Brothers,
while simply tying to be 
a bargain bin of literature that needs love, too.

Girls Are Not

girls are not 
as sentimental as me,
most of them are dumb dumb
liars in ladies,
or leggings,
but pretending to be invested in love.

I really believe
guys like me
are more romantic
than girls
because it is in our nature
to pursue
and it is in their nature to wait and hope
with no action. 

so sad
that girls are not
what they want to be,
because they are poisonous
and they can't admit it.

Tireman Studio from Zac McConnell on Vimeo.

I Don't Share Milk, Especially in Home Depot

I was rocking Clare
when the phone rang,
it was Easter,
and I fucking hate Florida.

But the laundry was done
and so was I,
but after faking it for thirty-five minutes,
a distraction was destiny.

I cleaned my clock
and flushed memories
down the toilet,
then went and got us a pizza.

She had moved on,
probably long ago,
when I was inside her
but like every other gal she failed to tell me.

So the pizza grew cold
and the love grew old,
but I stayed out of spite
and nervous nights.

Ghosts keep calling your name,
and I am still wishing
while fucking Claire,
oh my love, what do I do?

Crossed Out for Now

In Chicago,
I met a tiny blonde
who says nigga a lot.

She definitely licks windows
but she is cute,
and probably a pragmatist at heart.

When we met she propped her cigarette
in her belly button
just to write my number on her scarred wrist.

Later, buried above ground
we fucked in her office
and listened to The Antlers.

Then we held hands
across rivers
and made dinner in studios.

Are You Growing Lasers?

It's 420.
And people are stupid.
Bet you can't find me in Brooklyn.
Times nine times nine.
South Slope.
Never forget.
Flash light and guitar.
This is why we are here.
Fuck you.

Mix CD, Ten 10 Ten

10. The Simplest Thing by Hey Rosetta!
10. Walls by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
10. New Skin by The Ascot Royals
10. Find Me by Tinie Tempha featuring Jake Bugg
10. WALLS by Kings of Leon
10. I Want It All by Leeroy  Stagger
10. Kill the Lights by The Glorious Sons