Has-Been
The has-been has always been
told they have a beautiful brain.
“You’re gorgeous!”
his mother cries among mounds
of toenail clippings
and leftover fishbones
by the couch.
His response
is to flip channels
and quote Ellen D
as a deflector –
“My dog died
seventeen years ago.”
“You’ve never owned a pooch.”
the mother says.
“Too busy with your scholarship,
selling Scientology house-to-house.
Boychik kicks her out
so he can eat the rest
of the penis-shaped chocolates
he ordered
with his broken sobriety.
In the afternoon, the last
of his pension goes toward
a new iguana –
the last one
gave him bad advice
on the races,
which cost him
his ability to whistle.
From the pet store
he’ll go home,
clean the living room,
and count the diseases
in a biome of unrest
before they can be expounded –
In the war on himself,
released from abstraction
to reality, all is contra.
Dream Team
For Kirby.
Competitive sports
are best paired
with court shorts
worn by Kirby’s
favourite team.
She’s putting her minutes
in on the stationary bike
while eyeing the boys
passing the ball around.
High Park
Poem
For Krystal, Saturday, September 19th, 2020.
I knock over
the sparkling
water
and watch
as it cultivates
a river
on the grass
before settling –
reveling in the
wind’s
gentle
interludes
and
underwhelming gusts.
The ant
trawling
my arm stops,
cleaning its
antennae
like a cat
lapping
at its paws.
Food for Thought
Added excitement
is grocery shopping
with all the food unlabeled.
No one knows
whether the amalgam
they are buying
is going to kill them
or aid in their vitality.
The best part is
that the rich
pay top dollar
for uncertainty –
forced to put
their money everywhere, including
where their bills don’t shine.
After taking a bite
of their admixtures
at home, most are opting
for ordering Chinese
food instead.
The trust fund troupe
cabs it down the hall,
aislings grumbling
in the abyss.
Boy Nobody
Cuts the crusts
Off his sandwiches,
Dividing them into triangles
In eleven swift steps.
Little is predicated
At the lunch table
Other than his uncles
Dress him.
Refined he shall remain.
*
Emails and sticky notes
Cross hands, manifesting
Into longer messages.
Bug-eyes pays compliments
in spades.
The only way
For this night shift
To pan out
Is if he has a proposition.
*
Seven a.m rolls in,
And he pulls through.
*
His VHS collection
Is a little sparse,
Spoiling the twelve plates
Of all-you-can-eat pizza
We finished at the restaurant
Thirty minutes ago.
Gaffes seal the deal.
Chance flees out
Of the basement
Like a clown
With a bad case
Of the shingles.
*
Bantering with him
Isn’t the same anymore,
But amorphous facts –
Jeopardy –
Class action lawsuits –
Illegitimate lovechildren.
The signifiers were always present
But lacked definition
Until they configured
into an edifice.
It’s all so clear.