Issue
 #22 

July
2012


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a poem by Joseph Goosey

INCREASINGLY THE FACT BECOMES CLEAR THAT EACH
DECISION I HAVE EVER MADE HAS CONTRIBUTED TO MY
CURRENT RUINOUS STATE

Plop my ass on pyramids of bottles;

"That must be a good beer for nine bucks"
says the man in a Hawaiian shirt behind me
in the Winn-Dixie line. I want to smack him
but smile impotently and swipe my debit card.

The cashier is in high school
and I'd like to be in high school.

In high school there's no such thing as DUI.

Every single day in high school you knew exactly
how much lunch would cost yet you never knew
what lunch would be composed of.

But of is a preposition
and in high school
they sodomize you with a Quiddich broom
if you end a sentence in a preposition.

The demolition present.
Short with paint.
Move to Key West. I squint.
I wait and I squint and it was so hot
during that gig painting the floor of the sea turtle sanctuary.

I thought the heat was a venereal disease but it was simply heat
and looking back I am disappointed --

If only I'd been a customer in that Waffle House
on Beach Boulevard the night that Escalade crashed killing four.
My lunch would be permanently free.
Skin moisturized.

One tends to believe in shit
i.e. heaven
when staring inward toward lungs watery.

Immediately before you are no longer yourself
you become some Buddhist
wanted for questioning on charges of federal conspiracy.

"But Buddhists don't believe..."
begins somebody in this round table workshop.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up," I say.
This is the only spotlight I'll ever be granted.

© by Joseph Goosey
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #22 ~ July 2012    return to top