Monday, October 15, 2012

poem of the day 10.15.12

the shark

they all called him shark

it had been his nickname since college
when he broke mike schmidt’s home run record

but he kept the nickname
into his career in retail management

he talked a lot about mike schmidt
but no one seemed to care

shark was an asshole
he liked to bully the women who worked at the store
and intimidate the teenage part-timers

when women were changing in the bathroom
shark would often try and break in
then pretend it was an accident

he always got to me whenever
a group of girls came in to browse

shark would stand next to me
he’d look me up and down
and start picking me apart

one day it would be the way i wore my belt
the next day it would be my shoes or my facial hair

shark made sure that people in the store
heard him giving me a dressing down

the groups of girls would roll their eyes at me and leave
never to come back

the sad irony was that shark had the worst mustache
it looked like a hairy cock on his face

i wanted to strap him down
and burn it off with a clothes streamer
while telling him what a shit manager he was

on nights that i had to work with shark
my stomach would turn on me
as i sat in the mall parking lot
and i’d want to call off sick from work

because i knew it would be another night
of getting tormented by some ex-jock
another night of getting called out for my wardrobe

debauched for commerce

another night of staying later than scheduled
sweeping the floors over and over again
until shark examined every morsel of carpet
finally showing me mercy and allowing me to leave

i applied for other jobs
but no one tried to hire me

the only benefit to shark was that he had a hot wife
she was brunette with fine tits
and a nice, tight ass

when she came into the store
it was like christmas day

i had no clue how a prick like shark
could land such a woman

i figured they’d met in college
when he was breaking records and living like a king
and that it was too late for her
to meet someone else

she’d met him before the moustache
and the retail life

when shark took the wife on vacation
it was usually somewhere sun-soaked and exotic

he’d bring in pictures of her in a string bikini
for all of us teenage boys to stare at

at home
i’d jack-off thinking about fucking shark’s wife
on some sandy beach
imagining that i was getting back at him in some way

but then the next night shark would make me
steam t-shirts for hours
or spend the evening making fun of my haircut
and i knew who was really was in charge


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