a poem by Joseph Goosey
INCREASINGLY THE FACT BECOMES CLEAR THAT EACH
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.
and I'd like to be in high school.
how much lunch would cost yet you never knew
what lunch would be composed of.
and in high school
they sodomize you with a Quiddich broom
if you end a sentence in a preposition.
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.
and looking back I am disappointed --
on Beach Boulevard the night that Escalade crashed killing four.
My lunch would be permanently free.
when staring inward toward lungs watery.
you become some Buddhist
wanted for questioning on charges of federal conspiracy.
begins somebody in this round table workshop.
This is the only spotlight I'll ever be granted.