Spotted on Bleecker Near Spring Street by Kyle Hemmings

I will signal you
with sunken eyes, creased fingers,
that I’m more
than your shadow.
I will buy you pineapple cheesecake
and three varieties
of honey buns from
the German bakery
on Bleecker. This will
keep you from getting
too lithe, too sour
from the ubiquitous fallout.
All your life was spent
by men with false Mexican moons
for eyes. Your sex was used
up by despairing robots with
a spotty electrical pulse.
I am just full of old movie puns.

I know you played the notorious
double agent in underground
films from the end of the McCarthy Era.
Ginsberg once gave you a bus ticket home.
Burroughs declared you had some
real talent then fell into the
Last morphine stupor.

At your bare fold-up table,
in the dim of the room,
with walls that won’t hold up
for another winter,
we won’t have to die
over anything.

kyle hemmings

Kyle Hemmings lives and works in New Jersey. He has been published in Elimae, Smokelong Quarterly, This Zine Will Change Your Life, Blaze Vox, Matchbook, and elsewhere. His latest collection of poetry/prose is Future Wars from Another New Calligraphy. He loves 50s Sci-Fi movies, manga comics, and pre-punk garage bands of the 60s.

 

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