Monday, December 17, 2007

BLOG FIESTA #1,283: Poems


While I was flying back from the race,
The man across the aisle

Was nice enough to wake me before
The drink cart came; my knee

Was in the way. He cared [deeply?] about football,
And spoke with his son about the tragic Chiefs.

But when the plane commenced its descent
From its 30,000 foot perch, the man began

To fidget. His fingers massaged
Each other like they were polishing metal,

But his hands were empty. And his knees bounced
An invisible baby. The plane lurched; the man

Jerked. “It’s just the wheels dad” his son reassured,
Unnerved by his father’s discomfort.

They both laughed, as though humor
Would veil the nakedness of the man’s fear

And even after the plane was on the ground
The man shook, until the

Door opened.


Three straight meals of peanut butter and jelly,
are about two meals more than I needed.
My poor stomach is coiled up in knots
of pain. Woe unto me, and my wretched cramp.

Oh how my stomach,
Literally dying from boredom,
Wracked by monotony,
Wishes for the sweet embrace of other flavors.

Any goddam kind of food,
In this whole goddam airport.
Would be welcomed like a brother,
Would be welcomed like a son.

My stomach bays into the night
Like a lost wolf begging answers from the moon.
And the only reply comes
In the form of even more peanut butter and jelly.


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