Christian Nicholas (Philadelphia, USA): Three Poems

I COULDN’T THINK OF ANY OTHER WAY TO TELL YOU

Today, for once, the average
man on the street is happy
& I, for once, can’t blame him.
Or her — for once she’s a man too.

We can try to remember
to regender later
when tomorrow isn’t October
because for once, tomorrow is October.

Let us begin by dispatching
at once. Or in any case
as soon as I discover
whether the man on the sidewalk—
the man in front of me—
is a mover & a shaker or oblivious.
Nevermind I will push him into the street.

There, man.
Be like me.
Be saved or damned


IT MEANS LIKE IT SAYS

Overage? Is that how you spell it?
I’d pronounce it like French. Of-air-raj.
That makes twice in two days

I’ve mistaken suicide for masturbation.
I’ll be waiting beneath your window this evening
to see if you’ll attempt the Holy Threepeat.

I know it sounds like I’m talking about
something other than what I’m talking about
but this is as close as I get these days.

We make do. We get by.
We call a smoke, a light, a smile a sacrifice
and you — what do you call it? Motherfucker

dead these two days two times already.
How do you propose to resurrect anything
when you won’t even do yourself
in.


CURRICULUM VITA

My customer service skills are unquestionable
if not unshakeable. Threaten my life
& I will fold. In half the time it takes them
to draw & quarter me, the world will be
as flat as a pancake on a map
of the world , circa 1999. The last time
I earned my keep, as opposed to
my living. As opposed as I am
to this line of inquiry I will not object
publicly. I can only hope that the truth
will reveal itself, like a naked fat girl
in the window on three consecutive nights.


© Christian Nicholas 2009