Tuesday, October 28, 2014

poem of the day 10.28.14

almost throwing a beer bottle
at the famous hockey players head

it was another night of no action
the bar, the clubs in pittsburgh giving me no quarter
toward my helpless desire

we were out with steve’s sister, elena
at some over-thirty joint on the allegheny river

she’d been prick-teasing me all night
because steve told her that i had the hots for her
because she was newly divorced and newly blonde
and wanted to feel good about herself for a change

come dancing with me, elena said
we went onto the floor and she shimmed her ass to me
giving me a wink and a taste
before slinking away into the crowd

her thirty-five to my twenty-two years of naivety
just standing there under the purple fluorescents
wondering what the hell

watching boob jobs and face lifts and hair dye mingle
with men still sporting earrings

george rubio had a bottle of goldschlager in his car
so we went outside to drink it

the dead of winter and three slugs in
we were already taking off our coats and hats
telling tall tales about elena
you know, if either of us ever got the chance

back in the bar we ordered two over-priced beers
to chase the booze

it seemed like half the place had cleared
but really almost everyone was packed into one corner
where the hot-shit hockey player and his entourage
we standing with drinks
pointing around the room like conquering romans
as if taking their pick of the women

george and i went over and i killed my beer
that’s when i saw elena slink up to the hockey player
and start whispering into his ear as he smiled

her thirty-five to his twenty-five, his talent, his wealth

i had the perfect shot
a clearing in the crowd

i held the bottle up to my ear
like a molotov cocktail and was about to let loose
on the club, the night, those two stanley cups
the hockey player had helped bring to the steel city

my own brilliant act of terrorism

i felt someone grab my arm
i turned and it was steve
he took the beer bottle out of my hand
and said, dude, that’s my sister over there

i know motherfucker, i said
you think i honestly don’t know?

then i stalked off to vomit in the bathroom
just me and the attendant who kept spraying cologne

thinking that there was still some night left
to go somewhere else in the lonely city

meet a nice young girl
who was into poetry or baseball

maybe tell her all about myself
and how a hero ain’t nothing but a sandwich


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