A GOOD BET
So I'm waitin' in line with all the other stiffs
to buy a ticket--69 million bucks--I can dream
can't I? Besides, the money goes to old people,
which maybe I'm one already,
even if the government don't agree.
This old woman ahead of me, she left
her shoppin' cart outside,
is scribblin' numbers on a dirty envelope.
She got this look on her face
like maybe God is talkin'
an' she's takin' dictation.
Then she stops sudden, pencil tip on her scabby lip
like somebody's brained her with a 20 pound sledge.
I'm waitin' for her to fall
when her eyes brighten enough to crack a safe.
She's scribblin' again an' even though the stink is bad
I hunker close an' peek over her shoulder.
TIME OUT
What's few days here or there,
you know, that you can't remember.
No big deal, right? Happens all the time.
I mean what coulda gone wrong?
The cops ain't at your door.
Nobody's been buried that you shoulda know about.
So what if a couple a papers pile on your doorstep
an' the mail's bustin' outa your box.
Who does it hurt, huh?
You just been gone a while.
Happens all the time.
Vacations, business trips, whatever.
If somebody wanted to keep in touch,
you woulda felt it, right?
IT KEEPS GOIN' ROUND
There's music out there--
boogie woogie, soca, reggae,
your standard rock 'n roll, even
dem ole tunes--waltz an' fox trot
swing an' polka too.
The whole earth is shakin',
a whole lotta rhythm goin' on.
Only you can't hear it too good
if your battery's dead
an' the phone's unplugged
an' the TV's blarin'
an' there's a sale on cheap booze
an' your liver's so big it hurts
an' your eyes is bleedin'
cause you got your head
shoved so far up America's ass.
COMIN' UP SHORT
"Whar's the beef!"
You remember that, huh?
This ole lady's surprise
when she opens the hamburger bun.
"Whar's the beef!"
she screams over again.
I mean it caught the country's imagination--
kids on the playground,
people on the bus,
my buddies in the mill,
dem loonies in the bars,
even my ole girlfriend was yellin' it
which I didn't care too much for,
especially when she lifted the sheets.
SOME TRICKS
I don't know where the days go.
Forget about years, decades--they's all lost.
I mean days. Like what happened to Sunday?
Monday, if this is Tuesday?
Now Saturday I know it snowed,
woke up to maybe two inches, white an' wet.
I shoveled the walk, threw a snowball
or two just to see if the ole arm
could fire em like Sandy Kofax used to.
But what the hell happened to Sunday an' Monday?
You know, not even the weather is clear.
Best I can figure is God an' his buddy Satan
were up to their ole tricks, makin' bets
like with Job. Only this week I'm the sucker,
so thank God the stakes ain't too high, huh?
OLD WAYS
A lotta people when they want somethin'
they want it right now, you know,
not one second later, gotta have it.
Me too. When I'm really hungry
or really pissed nobody's payin' attention,
it's like now or nothin'.
If nothin', then we's fightin' or forgettin'.
What I mean is forget you, I'm outa here.
Fightin' though is another story. Like who knows
if you an' me got somethin' worth sluggin' for?
Maybe it's some kinda idea you got
or some strange feelin' you don't know nothin' about.
But you get right up there anyway
an' you're breathin' somebody else's bad breath.
An' even if she hollers, you don't let her go.
THESE DAYS OF OUR LIVES
This lady up the block
got this daughter across the street.
They ain't exactly buddies
but, you know, get along.
One day the girl's dad, her ex
comes visitin' with his new wife.
I mean it's like nothin's said
but soon there's this parade of guys
knockin' on the lady's door--
five of them ina week by my count
an' once two in one night, all comin'
in clean, shiny cars, them spiffed,
knockin' ona door it seems
whenever her ex is ona porch.
The guy don't say, do nothin'.
No tellin' what's on his mind.
I look again at the woman,
I can't figure what she got
that causes the traffic jam.
Who knows? Maybe she
makes one helluva omlete.
INSTANT REPLAY
You can believe I stay away from mirrors.
But now there's video cameras
an' they's much worse, tricky too.
I'm walkin' in Sears, one footin' it
around them funny aisles they got
an' outa the corner of my eye
I catch this guy on TV. Hey, maybe
I know him, so's I stop
an' study the fat, old, ugly face.
Somebody bumps me from behind
an' that's on TV too.
I get outa there quick, I mean
who can live with that!
The voice of Stashu Kapinski comes from the working class neighborhood of Lawrenceville,
that area of Pittsburgh behind the abandoned steel mills on the banks of the Allegheny River. Many people I've known while growing up in that
section of the city combine to form Stashu's character. He's a crusty, angry, strangely vulnerable, long time unemployed steel worker
bewildered by the world before him and his place in it. (I have 3 complete, unpublished book length manuscripts of Stashu Kapinski).
After a hiatus of about 8 years, I'm sending my work out again. I've been lucky enough to have poems in or accepted by Niederngasse, New
Works Review, Stirring, The Sound of What, Wired Art for Wired Hearts, 2 River View, Free Zone Quarterly, A Writer's Choice, The Isle Review,
Conspire, Poetry Repair Shop, Born Magazine, New World Poetry, Words on a Wire, Serpentine, Poet's Canvas, and The Cortland Review, etc.
Recently, I was named poetry editor for New Works Review (http://www.new-works.org).
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