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a poem by John Grochalski (1 of 2)

josh and lisa, whom i don't know

they know love
it is scattered along 4th avenue
on the covers of broken cds
reflecting the rain and the sun
they know love
josh and lisa
in eight volumes of love songs
that are cracked and smashed
the remnants trailing along 4th avenue
for almost five blocks
they know love is a motherfucker
josh and lisa
they know love can kick you in the face
and make you want to suck on exhaust
josh and lisa
the good old days of burning cds back and forth
cds full of love songs and immortal statements
and music meant to stand the test of time
i pass the carnage and wonder
what in the hell happened to them
if josh was fucking around
or if it was lisa
who shot down whom on this ugly street
or if time was just too cruel and common
and they both got bored with each other
i stop and examine a cd
it is cracked in half
and the sides look like jagged crescent moons
love songs for lisa, volume three
never to be played again in this lifetime
and i see my face in the disc
growing gray and haggard
so full of love
glad there isn't some dumb, young thing
sitting at home
making a mixed cd for me tonight
burning out the careless love one song at a time
i'll take my woman, my wife,
playing dixieland jazz in the kitchen
handing me a full glass of scotch
and telling me maybe i should clean the place
tomorrow since i'm off from work
but josh and lisa
they know love now
they know some kinds of love
burn out and end
like the last song
on another shitty album
they wish they hadn't spent
so much time listening to.

© by John Grochalski
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #5 ~ September 2009    return to top     next poem