Jowls
I can’t beat him at checkers.
His lisp distracts me.
When we talk he looks into
my eyebrows.
He clicks his tongue with
each jump of his piece
and whistles whenever I
king him.
He’ll cough when I make a
move,
tell me his wife has
perfect breasts,
and yell at the birds to
be quiet.
Now I owe the old man twenty-
bucks.
Sincerely,
He’d been on hold in the telephone booth
for four quarters when it started raining.
Watching the sidewalk get dark he thought
of what he’d get.
Maybe a car,
or an
expensive dog.
An automated message told him to put in
his last quarter.
Since the second coin he’d had his legs crossed,
keeping his pants from being a bathroom.
The rain fell down the glass box.
Tired muzak played through the receiver.
He pulled himself out of his dropped fly
and let go.
It started in the far corner, steaming,
fogging the lower panes.
After the second corner it started to smell,
strong.
‘This Land is Your Land’
keyboarded through the phone as he kept
on his tip toes, in the last corner.
When he’d shook himself dry he was standing
in his piss, on hold.
An operator interrupted the muzak and
told him all operators were busy and to
try again later.
He stomped the ground, splashing his legs.
Of Course
His car goes really fast,
around corners,
in circles,
by pretty girls,
entering parking lots,
leaving parking lots,
through the drive-through,
over speed-bumps,
in traffic,
into traffic.
Gelatinous
She gave her presentation
with bravado,
narrated her power point
with unsolicited confidence,
detailed her pie charts with
acute percentiles,
countered difficult questions
with ease,
and reveled in the applause,
until she wiped the pride from
her cheek and found yogurt.
About the author:
Cole Nowicki is from Canada and still looking for the hypotenuse.
www.colenowicki.com
