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Joseph Szalinski Poem
Not a mythical creature,
or the patriarch of a lewd, cartoon family,
you are my roommate.
Well, one of them,
and you have been for two years now.
Superhero posters make your room your own.
Perhaps you’re concealing a secret identity
when you refuse to hang out with us;
on late night drives,
lunch or dinner,
all we do is make awkward small talk.
And you’re the only one
to keep his door locked.
Your girlfriend never comes around anymore,
you’re always at her place,
though, we don’t mind.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell where you are.
Perhaps you’re a murderer,
waiting for us to leave
so you can indulge in violent ceremony.
Whatever you’re into.
In the words of Jerry Garcia,
I implore you,
“Please don’t murder me.”
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2020
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
Killing time before a movie,
an ex and I
rifles thru what the nearby shoppes had to offer,
hoping to be aroused by some
remarkable deal.
I was making a Facebook post in
the first row of used clothes
when Eric sent me a text:
“Got some extra muscle relaxers
laying around.
Would you be interested?
I know you and your buddies like to
get into all kinds of shenanigans.
Haha.”
Told him that I’d
“keep him posted”
while I used the movie
to consider his offer.
Anecdotes of friends were recalled,
and even though
it would’ve been fun to
mix with something else,
I decided the money would be
better spent on something
that could get me
ed up instead.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
Next to my mattress
is a mirror
decorated with crude stickers
stolen from a dirty bathroom in
a seedy bar
in Polish Hill.
Great for staring into when waking up
for the day.
My ex-girlfriend also liked it
when we had sex, because
she enjoyed watching herself bounce
on me, on my memory foam,
admiring her heavy-breathing form...
But I've never looked into it
during sex.
No.
I avoided it like Medusa's head of snakes!
I've never done the mirror sex move
from American Psycho;
never emulated Patrick Bateman,
flexing while inches deep in a tight,
sopping .
No,
no Huey Lewis and the News either--
no music, actually.
All that could be heard were muffled moans
and pleasured panting.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2020
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
We bought the get-up
at the local thrift store.
I elected to dress like a cop,
much to the amusement
of the female Dollar Store employees
who whistled and made comments
about me being a stripper,
when we came through
the checkout line.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
It carries with it, connotations of vibrancy,
freshness, renewal, sustainability, health.
All this is reminiscent of us, how we are;
How our new love sprang shortly after Easter,
Two days after 4/2/0.
It’s the eye color we share,
Like long stares, up stairs
In my room in the attic.
The canopy of the house;
The leaves and branches
of the tree we dwelled in
It is the staggering ignorance we faced
When we decided to take a chance,
But even in our unversed status,
We persevered.
It is the envy I recognized
When I first saw you.
The attention, the conversation, the consideration
You gave onto others, I wished for myself.
And that compelled me so, I knew
I had only one choice.
Now or never,
The light changed.
Go!
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2020
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
“She was your cousin?”
They would all echo,
their half-faux-sympathy was pathetic,
and it made me feel even
more so.
What would they have done
had they been privy to such knowledge before?
Invited me to parties?
Would I have gotten girls to go out with me?
At least I got to hear about how
great she was.
The cousin I barely knew…
who, through her passing--
through her friends,
I came to know more.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
“CPR is only done to dead people,”
or, at least, I was taught that
in an oddly-lit conference room
at a local EMS center.
The instructor would’ve had to have
used me as a real example if the
course took any longer.
I showed all the tell tale signs:
-unresponsive
-no pulse
-no breathing
After a grueling three hours,
and more info than I cared to learn,
or more fake babies stuffed inside cases like laundered money or rented school instruments than I cared to see,
my classmates and I “graduated”
CPR class!
Only one stipulation…
a fee—
I had no idea I’d be charged.
Work would’ve reimbursed me, but
that would’ve been too much of a hassle.
Instead, I sat quietly, amongst the chattering fitness dorks, as our cards were being printed, knowing full well
the pile of cash he swept into his envelope was a little light.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
Loyal companion
whose racing paws &
booming howl is heard before
she is seen.
A wonderful addition to a family
who’s known loss.
Grayed from the years, you still seem playful and spritely,
albeit a little fluffy.
I wonder if you’d remember me after all this time?
If you’d still excitedly greet me for licks, sniffs, and scratches;
the piece of a broken
relationship I miss the most.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2022
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
An innocent game of release
made dirty by a devious trick
devised by Sean’s older brother, Brandon.
“Guys, we give up!”
he yelled.
The treeline bustled with life
as kids emerged from the woods;
Cubscouts crawled from the underbrush--
“Just kidding!”
he added as he tagged
the bewildered players
against their protests.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
They left me in the woods…a simple game of hide-and-seek, only there was no reciprocation. I’ve been here for so long, the imprints my knees have made are now pools of mud from the rainstorm that swept through a little bit ago. My shirt has been reduced to torn fabric after an encounter with a patch of thorn bushes. My left shoe is missing, off flirting with some quagmire a mile or so back. There’s no ethnicity in the woods like there is where I’m from. The blood from cuts and dried, caked mud has become my ethnicity; skin purpled from the cold night air.
But I’m beginning to forgive my so-called friends for abandoning me. I’ve made new friends; the hole-filled tree leaves, those holes in the shape of abstruse faces, making no remarks and passing no judgment. Ready to superimpose any characteristic I wish to attach to them.
How the traffic lights from the cluttered suburban streets I’m used to, pale in comparison to the stars lighting the night sky. Constellations replacing television as entertainment for me. There’s a marriage between my breaths, which dance in short, scratchy form, and the thoughts of contentment, which parade through my brain. No exact thoughts, mind you, more like Zen. An absence of any real material, thoughts about thought, about absolutely nothing and everything.
One would expect me to grow hungry, but only, I do not hunger. I am not confined to one corporeal existence. I am many, a shared experience. The reason I am not sought is because no one knew to find me. They left, exchanging awe and wonder and humility, for safety, lies, and unnatural construction. Both physical and immaterial. I am forfeiture. The “Let’s leave it behind, it isn’t worth it, we can always get another.”
But they don’t understand. They can’t. True, I am always waiting…willing to accept with open arms and forgiveness, but they don’t seem to make any concession, instead, they want to make this thing called progress. Towers stand and sidewalks sleep in my earthen bed in place of me. Becoming a mistress to the soil and minerals. What hurts most is that the material these new obstructions are made from comes from me and the rest of nature. As if we weren’t good enough as we were. We wait patiently, trying to understand how to get you back. You live in your towns, with your possessions, for that’s where they live. Living a very narrow existence in them, and having the gall to call it experience. We keep your shared experiences and discarded goods in our belly, in hopes of luring you back, just wishing to experience real experience with you again.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2022
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