Her love is a
crowbar into
the stomach.
It’s a gun fight
in a closet.
It’s a black hole
in a paper cup.
Her love is a
grenade in a
gumball machine.
An electric chair
in a summer dress.
It’s a Third Reich parade.
Now i drive fast
with my eyes closed.
Scream into bottles
of Chardonnay.
Pick fights with
ghosts in long ago
basements
while looking
for reasons
in a cereal box
and empty parking lots.
After the fight
I walked calmly down the stairs
towards the front door
with table legs
breaking on my back.
My brother was in the kitchen
making coffee
“Good morning!” I said as I dodged a stool.
“She’s real pissed. I’ll explain later. I’m off to work.”
My brother lifted his cup
shrugged
and returned to the window.
A lady
across the playground
was pushing a stroller
both were bundled up
so that you couldn’t see anything
but eyes.
It was a brutal winter.
In the elevator
I spotted an empress
and I would priest for her,
doctor her pains,
soldier her wars;
I would do many,
mighty things
all within the span of
30 seconds
-then she was gone
and things returned to
as they were.
Sometimes
trumpets blare
and sometimes
the forest
is filled with
an uneasy silence.
Late night at the bar.
I walked out of the bathroom
and there were bodies
all over the floor
moaning and
bleeding.
Smashed bottles lay everywhere.
Every table was overturned.
Somebody was trying to crawl
off the pool table and
the bartender was crying.
A man on the floor
on his stomach
was trying to reach out for me
holding his jaw.
There was a pool cue
sticking out of his back.
As I leaned down to
yank it out
I said to him,
“Well,
that’s one piss
that I’m glad I’ve taken.”
I open doors for hipsters
when they’re on a bike
and I’m in a car.
You had to get it just right.
Timing was everything.
It wasn’t easy.
I don’t think that most people would
appreciate how much of an art form
it really is.
The hardest part was getting close enough
to be effective
without them noticing.
First off,
you had to drive an unassuming car.
It couldn’t have looked like anything from Mad Max
or something equally as menacing.
The doors had to have heft
but not enough to lag when attempting to open it quickly
and the longer the door the better.
That’s why two door coupes always worked the best.
Routes were easy to pick.
Universities and downtown areas
were always abundant.
Otherwise anywhere with coffee would do.
Targeting them was even easier.
Visual assessment was Fast and Furious (Vin)
thanks to the beard
the absurdly large sunglasses
the sweater vest
the knitted cap
the legs rotating the pedals like an
awkward malnourished chicken.
The key was that
you needed two people
that were able to really work well together.
Team spirit, you know.
“Look, look, look! There’s one there, see him?”
“Short ginger fuck that dresses like Kanye west? Yeah, I got this.”
“He’s gonna get it good.”
“Fucker’s going sailing without a ship.”
You rev up beside him
closer…closer
maybe just a little closer
and then WHAM!
You had to really lean into it
against the wind and
manage to close it afterwards
with you still inside
but it was worth it
every time.
It didn’t take much
as we weren’t trying to murder anybody here
a slight little light maiming would do.
Feeling the impact of the door,
the vibration, the moment of reaching out
and connecting on so personally a level
even the little squeak the hipster FUCK made
as they flew off the bike towards an unforgiving curb
was absolutely enthralling
so rapturous that
everything was hushed afterwards
like the crowd before erupting to a winning goal.
It felt like God was watching.
“Right into the fire hydrant, Damn!”
“Fuck yeah! Blame the media, Hipster, blame your MOTHER!”
There was nothing quite like it.
It gave you shivers down your spine
and made you want to do it again
immediately
but most times you couldn’t as
once they caught on
the fun would be over
so you waited
until the time was right
and you always knew when that was.
You just knew…
and when it came
you picked up the phone
and called your buddy
giving them a pick-up point
with the advice:
make sure you aren’t followed.
Then you get behind the wheel.
You slide on the leather gloves
turn on the engine
listen to it purr with eyes closed
feel the rhythm the heartbeat of the car
feel one with the car
your doors will connect today
they will…
then crank up the Insane Clown Posse.
Now you’re ready to start hunting
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This poem is not intended to offend anybody but Chad.
Your skin grows thicker
over time.
What bothered you
ten years ago
wouldn’t bother you now.
All of those big deals
that
you used to tear your hair out
over
they become small.
They become nothing.
While at the same time
all of the small things
that made you smile
day by day
that kept you going
no matter what
they become large.
They become everything.
She didn’t just break your heart,
she stomped on it
purposefully
against the curb
then set it on fire
with a blowtorch
and a mad grin
until it was well done
eating it
afterwards
at a fine restaurant
casually piercing it with
silverware
between long sips of
red wine
and tossing the scraps
to the dogs
while laughing
maniacally
at the moon.
Her face is stark white like a fresh sheet
sailing happy blank eyes summer sky blue
white pearls packed together everywhere
between her balloon watermelon lips.
It’s mesmerizing,
you become captivated
and start to writhe about like a charmed snake.
That’s the lady that works the Sobeys wine store
by far one of the most jovial
perpetually rapturously excited
overwhelmingly joyous
Hallelujah’s
that I have ever encountered.
Her moon face is always lit up
brighter than a solar flare
streaking across the midnight of my existence.
I quickly snatch my box
away from her smile but not before
checking my hair in her teeth.
I growl
and rush out of the store
peering at everybody suspiciously.
They want my wine.
Even though there are boxes of boxes
stacked everywhere in plain sight
where I just came from
they want mine.
Those fuckers
are not getting shit from me.
I hold it tight against my chest
right beside my heartbeat
and make for the door.
mmmyyyy wwwwiinnnne.
Mee luuuuuvvvss meee wwiiinnnee.
Sooo preccciious.
In anticipation
I tear open the box
and crack the seal on the spout
in the car
making strange mewling noises.
No, there’s nothing wrong with me
at all.
I get home kick open the door
slam the box on the counter and
quickly check out some bondage action on my phone.
Grabbing a glass from the cupboard
is always an exercise in delicate judgement
it has to be the right one
but since I only have two types to choose from
forget that I fucking said anything.
Then…THEN…
there’s the first pour.
The first pour is always the best.
It doesn’t just stream out,
It GUSHES out like a CANON or
like water BLASTING from a CRACK in a DAM!!
It’s like a MIRACLE of GOD!
A freshly spread VIRGIN!
A volcano in the soul erupting loud colours
across the cement hue of stubborn February.
Makes you just want to
spray it up into your face while laughing maniacally
spray it out into eternity
while laughing at your own nothingness
shoot it out into the streets
let the people dance when not murdering
each other’s spirit
as trumpets blared
angels sang
and midgets danced.
As it comes out straight from a heaven
that you will never see
you just want to pour it
all over your
fucking soul.
I was in an apartment building
I still have bad dreams about
at the west end of Cambridge
on the tail-end of being high for two days
but I wasn’t even sure on what.
People liked me so they always gave me things
and when I’m drunk I’ll drop whatever
like a champ
because I’m the Pacman
of human garbage receptacles.
For some bizarre reason I sat in a chair
in the middle of the living room
facing the front door
with some broad in my lap.
Seen her around but
never really got her name
just knew that she was trouble and
wondered if she thought the same of me.
Her ass felt good there.
There was enough of it to really make an impression.
I squeezed her breast and kissed her neck.
I didn’t give a fuck who was watching.
The front door opened and some
bald scary motherfucker
drunk out of his mind barged in.
From word on the street
he was bad-ass crazy and addicted to aerosol cans
and as he smashed his half-full beer
against the wall
got on his knees
raised his scarred arms and screamed
something in Japanese
-I believed it.
In fact,
I believed that this man could
start a fight
in an empty house.
The host
a grizzly chain-smoking native
in an torn Iron Maiden shirt
and Hello-Kitty sunglasses
calmly strolled over and started
feeding him uppercuts
like they were half-price at Walmart.
This was all happening right in front of me
so I was about to get up when the girl
wiggled around in excitement.
Sick bitch. I got hard.
I stayed.
Wham!
They were on the floor to the left of us
Wham! Wham!
Now to the right.
How they avoided hitting my chair
and us hitting the floor
to involuntarily join them in this orgy of violence
was an absolute miracle of God
(there is no God here).
Despite all the action
I started to close my eyes
wondering if I would wake up in Mexico
buried in a crate of oranges
when her cool, calm, soft, compelling
voice whispered into my ear
“You’re exhausted, Sweets. Let’s get you to bed.”
I couldn’t talk. I merely nodded.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Yeah, that shit was still going on.
She got me on the mattress and undressed me
with the proficiency of a
hospital emergency ward
climbed on top of me and started kissing me
or more like trying to stab my tongue to death
with hers.
Her breath was terrible.
Did she ever fucking brush those things?
She seemed so nice, so cool and collective
up until now but this was what it was like
in the snake pit where everyone was vicious
if you gave them time or opportunity.
She turned beast…Dragon!
I felt trapped beneath her fire.
I didn’t want this. Maybe tomorrow.
Probably never.
She was started to make me sick.
Her smell, her weight on me, her tongue, her raspy laugh
-all of it
“Baby, no. I don’t think I can do this. I feel like
my soul is dying. There’s lots of gusto in the other room.
Go find one of them.”
“Fuck that! You’re the prettiest thing here. If you
don’t like it then just shut the fuck up and lie there.”
This was abuse. I was sure of it
because it wasn’t the first time
and I just wanted to turn her over
pin her down, smile and say,
‘So what if I said that to you, huh?
What if I fucking did this to you?’
“Christ, okay.” I replied sheepishly instead.
I was weak as a kitten and this girl
was going to get what she wanted
whether I liked it or not
because at the bottom of the snake pit
it was hard to push off
what slithered all over top of you
and sometimes you couldn’t
see the dragon
until the clothes came off.
So I closed my eyes
as she began to rock
back and forth
back and forth
back and…
hernanjmonzon.com 