Gerbils Hijack
Bongo Skins
Seems you can’t visit an espresso bar
without the rustle of tiny feet
on wood shavings. Watermelons
and Neville Chamberlain’s bus schedule
downplay the pickaxe in Trotsky’s skull
and their Louis XIV bifocals
send my gallium through the Karman line.
I spread honey on blackjack tables
but Saddam’s nukes stole the cards.
In the kangaroo court of public opinion,
crack babies declare Ferguson will bestow
food pellets and that the lampshades
were asking for it all along
Runaround
(sung to “I Get Around” by the Beach Boys)
Runaround, round, round, they run me round
Yeah, runaround, runaround, they run me
round
From frown to frown, they run me round
I’m so sick of these clowns
My credit card bill looked a little odd
So I phoned it in to report a fraud
Listen to the menu cause the options have
changed
Press 1 for balance and 2 to pay
For help press 6 though there’ll be a wait.
They put me on hold. I’m eighty-fifth in
line
While my FICO score sinks like a diamond
mine
Runaround, round, round, they run me round
Yeah, runaround, runaround, they run me
round
From frown to frown, they run me round
I’m so sick of these clowns
A service rep greets me like an old friend
Then the phone cuts out so I dial again
I’m on hold once more. Number ninety-nine
My blood pressure spikes above the Karman
line
Runaround, round, round, they run me round
Yeah, runaround, runaround, they run me
round
From frown to frown, they run me round
I’m so sick of these clowns
Ballad of the Man with a Small Chin
I splash on the
aftershave of hopelessness
with
its scent of divorce papers
and
child support payments.
I
fantasize kisses of recrimination
and
the disco beat of mortgage payments
but
the two-faced god of reason and detachment
denies
even that dopamine hit to its priesthood.
Grateful
for the stillness. Grateful
for
the lamp illuminating this monk’s cell.
The
magic glow of friendship
so
precious, so fleeting
First-World Problem
Pain! Blinding pain!
The pressure an ice pick
inexorably piercing my ear drum
as the airplane descends.
No screams, curses, gum,
or frantic swallowing helps.
Once was once too many.
A half dozen and I learn my lesson.
Never fly with a head cold.
When I buy a non-refundable ticket,
it never fails. Two weeks before departure
a conspiracy of coughs and sniffles
choose seats next to mine.
I wake with a scratchy throat at 3:00 AM,
guzzle fruit juice and pots of tea.
Weak, dizzy, my sinuses a battlefield.
My cold moves from throat to head
to chest and back again.
Doctors, no help.
$1600 for a flight to nowhere?
Ticket in hand I stare at the phone.
What About Me?
Late night at the physics lab
all quiet except for the slap-slap
of the copier printing hundreds of resumes.
Little chance of a job despite ten years in
college.
How insensitive of me not to worry
about Hollywood’s unrealistic body images!
My arms leaden. How can I earn a living
when fifteen minutes on the keyboard leaves
me
in agony? The orthopedist tells me,
“Go to a medical library and figure
something out,”
Workers Comp offers me two-weeks’ pay
but what about teens on social media?
“These numbers have to come down!”
the program manager sneers.
My cost estimate is higher
than the number he pulled out of his ass.
Should I call the fraud-and-abuse hotline
or just quit my job? But what about
safe spaces, trigger warnings,
and cultural appropriation?
The stabbing pain in my hip
keeps me awake all night. Obamacare
emails they’ve cancelled my insurance.
I scream for hours over the phone
but what about diversity at Harvard?
After a dozen tests, MRIs,
and doctor visits, my neck tumor
has to come out. I have no one
to drive me home after surgery.
Your social justice never cared
about me
Jon Wesick - Hundreds of Jon Wesick’s poems and stories have appeared in
journals such as the I-70 Review, New
Verse News, Paterson Literary Review, and Unlikely Stories. He is a regional editor of the San Diego Poetry Annual and host of the
Gelato East Fiction Open Mic as well as the NAV Arts poetry reading. His latest
short story collection is Saint John the Blasphemer. He lives in
Manchester, New Hampshire and longs for gene editing to bring giant wombats
back from extinction. http://jonwesick.com
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