Mini Bike
You had this
mini bike
with an engine
the size
of a lawnmower
It sounded
like a chain saw
buzzing
up and down
the street
The one time
I rode it
the fucking thing
shot out
from under me
when I hit the
accelerator
and smashed
into a tree
Your dad
drained all
the oil
and gasoline
and stashed
it in the rafters
of your garage
He said
it was
too damn
dangerous
That wasn’t
the last time
I ruined
the fun
Bestseller
Sitting on
an old couch
at the end
of someone’s
driveway
in the middle
of the night
Completely
out of our heads
on acid
Laughing in
that insane way
only acid heads
understand
The kind
that makes
your face hurt
the next day
Bouncing lines
off each other
Plotting out
a novel
Something
about vampires
and cemeteries
This is gonna
be a
bestseller
Dig These Blues
(for Mark Borczon)
What is there
to say
about the blues
It lives
in a place
all it’s own
Sing the praises
of the bad news
Celebrate
your troubles
and get lost
in the glory
of twelve
lonely bars
The first
the fourth
and the
beautiful fifth
The relative major
tells the story
and the walk down
brings it home
Nothing Was Said
I had this
blinding headache
and everything
she said
just made it worse
It was like she was
shouting
not in my ears
right
inside
my head
I grabbed her
by the shoulders
and shook her
Stop
screaming
Just
be
quiet
Then I saw
the look of raw
fear
in her eyes
and I realized
she hadn’t been
speaking
at
all
Dumpster Fire Press 