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high school interrupted

in the 1990’s

your flannel shirt

was a cultural ticket

that took you

greasy haired

through a graffiti pocked

bathroom stall door

to a grunge w√ľnderland

where herpes came standard

with every tribal tattoo

nirvana whining

about your libido

a mosquito

&

girlfriends untrue

your dreams will be

dry humped

in a Geo Metro,

Generation X,

your so-called life…

high school interrupted

…eating Pearl Jam until

Zima vomit came to the house party too

with green apple jollyranchers

attended by

your skankiest girlfriend

who smoked Marlboro Reds

with the acumen

of a triple divorcee

her eyelids

the trashiest

ice blue

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

hunt and peck

oh god
how i wish i had taken typing in high school
but the word processing and typing classes
were for the pregnant girls whose medusa fried hair
smelled like rave hairspray and marlboro reds

but no
i was too busy accumulating more important credits to graduate early
from glen este high school
and to this day i still don’t give a damn
who glen este was

i had to get away
from the bullying
more bullying
and did i mention bullying

the place was a varsity lettered lord of the flies reenactment
and nobody had the conch

the history teaching goomba soccer coach
with the 40 weight greasy slicked back hair
who was screwing the whole team
promising them scholarships to the coveted xavier university

the choir director who only gave the solos to his pets

and my mother who had decided to start having church services
in the living room

yeah i backed a moving truck up to the house at age 16
better that than climbing a clock tower armed

so here i am
20 years later
the queen of hunt and peck
i’m serious
i have the shit down to a fine art
my pointed index fingers flying
cigar clenched in my teeth
spectacles resting just above the tip of my nose

the only thing i’m missing is a fedora
with a little press card tucked into the brim

it’s really okay
my crappy typing will stand for all time
an emblem
of my daring escape

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

i want my camaro back

i want my camaro back

t-tops, for fuck’s sake, t-tops

all my mixtapes
and getting fingered behind the flats
at play practice

such a fine budding actress

every prom dress i ever had
with the shoes dyed to match

i want a man
reminiscent of mickey rourke on film
in 1987

i want the first shot of bourbon that felt right
and the first joint that took hold

i want the first time i saw the movie halloween

i want to say bloody mary five times
in a darkened bathroom mirror

i want to fear god and voodoo
with equal vim once again

it kept you busy with grand delusions
false hope
scripture
brimstone and jell-o molds

the future ain’t what it used to be, my friend

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

fall play

all i remember about high school
are books that changed my life
who i was fucking
and what i was touching
for the first time

opening night of the fall play
i had the lead and was fucking my co-star
a freshman year liz taylor
to his sophomore richard burton

backstage stolen kisses
and raised skirts
waiting for our cues
not caring if the audience noticed
the painted flats were moving

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

the not-so-good catholic boy

i fell in love with him as we rehearsed for a play my sophomore year

he was so significant

i still remember his confirmation name

anthony

he wasn’t my first kiss

but he was my first love

the not-so-good catholic boy

with whom i first went all the way

he gave me my only claddagh ring

on a hillside in ault park

still kept in a mother of pearl box on the dresser

i have refused all the other hand held hearts

bearing crowns

that came after

it’s easier not to care for whom you wed

he was 18

i was 15

that’s three decades to a teen

we were beautiful together

his blaze of red hair and irish smile

looked lovely beside

my dark island queen

we worshipped each other

we made stupid choices

we made love in places that defied

our anatomy and physics classes

within a year our words had destroyed each other

we exist an unused marriage bed

our unborn children grateful

they never endured our divorce

as am i

but i don’t regret a moment of him

yes, i still remember his confirmation name…