Sunday, October 26, 2014

3 poems || Shane Allison

Forceful Compulsion

Forceful compulsion
Forceful compulsion
Forceful compulsion
Forceful compulsion
Forceful compulsion,
Forceful, mouth
Penis, mouth-penis

At Andy’s Deli

‘Bout lost my mind when I didn’t see the usual.
Where the pies at? I asked the cute, East Indian man
Standing behind the counter.
We sold out, he said.
I didn’t know Hostess Apple Pies were so popular
Among the masses of Greenwich Village.
He knows how much I like my real fruit filling,
The preservatives and artificial flavors.
My world ain’t nothin’ but a flaky crust,
A cream-filled Twinkie.

Gotta get somethin’.
My sweet tooth is killin’ me.
What’s it going to be:
Ho Ho’s?
Crumb Coffee Cakes?
None of this I like.
Wait, this look good:
Coconut Crunch Donut Delites.
Six in a row.
I’ll take these, I told the clerk.
Placed two quarters in his hand.
Pulled open the wrapper,
Took the first one out for a taste test,
And right then I knew, this was the last snack cake
That was going to take the place of my everyday routine.

For Vytautas 

Sorry I didn’t call as much
Sorry I didn’t get your new address
Sorry you had to move so much
Sorry, but I called that number and they said they’ve never heard of you
Sorry I moved without telling you
Sorry all the letters were returned to sender
Sorry, but I had no choice but to go home for the summer
Sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you why
Sorry the traffic of our lives stopped
Sorry the poems ceased
Sorry for my depression
Sorry for taking it out on you
Sorry for being scared
Sorry for feeling overwhelmed
Sorry for the chipped piece of tooth I lost
Sorry for my bleeding gums
Sorry that my heart wasn’t in it
Sorry I wasn’t more grounded as you had thought
Sorry my head is up my ass
Sorry I lost track
Sorry I didn’t depend on your new whereabouts
Sorry, but I tried like hell on wheels to reach you
Sorry a lot has been going on
Sorry for the sex booths that smelled of poppers and ass
Sorry for the ten buck blow jobs
Sorry my Daddy got arrested
Sorry the U.S. Marshals busted down the door to get to him
Sorry they held guns to his head five feet away from my four yr old niece
Sorry they dragged him on the heels of his feet out the door
Sorry my Mama screamed, NO DON’T SHOOT ‘EM
Sorry that this has been on my mind
Sorry, but he’s been in jail for two months
Sorry, but it was only a matter of time
Sorry, but he could be looking at four years in prison
Sorry, but the lawyer is suing Winn-Dixie
Sorry, but that was a lie
when they said he hit the store manager in the back of the head
Sorry, but that’s what the papers said
Sorry they said he sped off in a Lincoln Town car
Sorry, but that was a lie
Sorry he would lock the gate every night
Sorry he walked around in his underwear every night
Sorry I ate like a hog over the summer
Sorry I wrote poems, sucked cock, and cruised parks for ass
Sorry, but he was horny as hell
Sorry, but I couldn’t resist his blue eyes
Sorry the other guy watched
Sorry that my return to New York was a sad one
Sorry that I’m on 61 Grove now
Sorry my roommates are gay
Sorry Daniel is the straight Russian who calls women chics
Sorry there’s a rat in the kitchen
Sorry, I mean mouse in the kitchen
Sorry I caught up on all my shows over the summer
Sorry that I don’t have cable in this new building
Sorry I don’t have a phone
Sorry I don’t have a job yet
Sorry I don’t have my TV with me
Sorry I don’t have a cell phone like everyone else
Sorry the homeless keep asking me for change
Sorry my mail should be getting forwarded any minute now
Sorry I don’t eat sushi
Sorry I got my ass eaten out by a Jeff Daniels look-alike
Sorry I fucked a fireman without a rubber
Sorry the poet David Trinidad threatened to get me kicked out of school
Sorry he saw the poem online I wrote about him
Sorry I had to have it removed from the site or else
Sorry I was saving my own ass
Sorry the editor was pissed for weeks
Sorry I got more poems coming out in more anthologies
Sorry my first story is going to be published in Velvet Mafia
Sorry I was nominated for a Pushcart Prize
Sorry I haven’t sent a postcard
Sorry our bathroom is filthy
Sorry for the hardwood floors
Sorry that Robert Polito, the Director of the Creative Writing Program
is demanding I take the poems off the website
Sorry the two yr MFA candidates are such fucking teenagers
Sorry for feeling like I’m in high school again
Sorry for the cliques
Sorry I’m such a slut
Sorry I’m so easy
Sorry, but I’m going to see a lawyer about my rights
Sorry I moved out of Williams Street
Sorry, but I’m living in the Village now
Sorry he wants me to dress up like a woman and suck him off
in the Meat Packing District
Sorry he talks about his cock so poetically
Sorry I have a crush on the Assistant Director of the Writing Program
Sorry I have a crush on the projectionist at Two Boots movie theatre
Sorry, but I read twice at the Nuyorican Poet’s Café
Sorry, but it went well
Sorry that I’ve been lonely

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