Two Poems

By Eric Eideltstein

The Cramps

i am a vagrant who
strides through souls
seeking retribution for
not loving you with every
liter of feeling, not
seizing your shoulders and
star gazing into the vast
blue irises that are foolish
enough to look at me.

you are not invited into my head so don’t show up with your funky dance moves

in my head

i worry about sharing
a bed as an octogenarian,
shriveled with innumerable
liver spots and an inept member,
while youngsters everywhere
ride mopeds and sing pop
ballads about what love is like—
but they don’t ever know, and
i worry that i wont either.

 

i swear they are all angry, the
man in plaid who wears 29 waist, the
middle-aged feminist with her trenta,
and the vagabond, toothless and misogynistic
begging for nipples and dimes
and receiving neither—
that’s how i arrange them in my
sadistic game of Here where
happiness is far from Go and
the good (unfortunately) die old.

i am drawn to the
idiosyncratic, those who
loll in wet grass,
read erotica, love
hard and hate soft and
understand that
space and time are
complementary—
i need them both.

pluto is not a planet
pluto is not a planet,
they tease me as i play
ring around the dying
gardenia on the mulched
playground, alone and
superior, while they—swingers
and sliders and tetherballers—
do nothing of the sort.

 

i live here and hide on
tax day, resort to a fetal position
because i get paid sick days
and it’s only natural to
sometimes stay in bed,
mauling over
cartoons, girls, and…

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