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Poetry by KJ

the movie of my life starring me directed by death

a brown envelope clogs the white
round of my mailbox the way a
tomato gags a glazed swine that
finished squealing -like a baby chick
under a laminated page guillotine
—in the meantime back at the ranch.

i rend the the package. i throw the tape aside.
i play pop-pop with the bubble wrap: with a needle,
with the sun & a magnifying glass, & with my book
teeth until i see the tape enter my frame as the last
plastic bulb sighs into a sorry, polyurethane slagheap.

with no more bubbles to bobble i force
my habit on the tape: i pop it in a VCR.
the yanked shutters of my lashes flap.
i notice a few forgotten scenes that are
so commonplace and full of errant love
that i absolutely want to sob awfully
like a rake raking leaves on concrete:

o, where was i? oh yes.
mom ushering the cake
to my pudgy young face.
the first dog with a loyal
bark & the blunt albeit
compassionate snout for
the times i cried about
being called too skinny.
the dinosaurs sprawled
in row after row; their
plastic jaws mouthing
each others' scaly necks.
the sentimentality gets
to me only to bore me to
utterly runny blue tears.

i let it run. i hit the kitchen
because it keeps soft white
unleavened sliced lips that
get me so hot i could lean
over the counter & burn
myself a plateful of toast.

i miss all of adolescence.
i miss the buxom girlfriends.
i miss getting the closure of
witnessing how "it" happened.
i miss the grisly car wreck.
i miss the cellphone call that
goes: "your boy looks dead."
i ask myself playfully if i
missed anything while i
was washing my hands.

now there's some scene
i've never seen with this
glorious shade of woman
with her bust in a fuss
asking me to come rub
the knots from her back.
i guess i got my credential?
i guess i got my mfa?
i guess i was successful?
she likes my fucking poems!
do i like my fucking poems...?
i can't believe this.
my eyes get heavy.
my eyes start to roll.
i wade into a puddle
of my own cool drool.

the cold touch of my
own spit startles me.
the screen is black.
out of curiosity i
check my flick on
imdb: it went over
budget before going
straight to video…

i pretend my pride
does not allow for
anymore keening
& i do manage to
swallow an eyeful
of my warm tears
before i scroll down
to the running time:
two hundred minutes.

that evening i cried until
i laughed myself to sleep
with the passing thought
that some poor soul might
have gotten a good handjob
when my life started to lag.


ps: bio: KJ likes to make poems a lot.