Four Poems — Brad Garber
She wears the same tight light blue sweater every morning. Does she ever wash it? The weather man says, “The spawning tornadoes are still a threat.” I think of rivers of spawning tornadoes, their beaten snouts and glassy eyes swimming up some stream into the Midwest, sure to buffet the tall buildings of Chicago. Then, a woman walks down the busy street with a confident smile on her face, while she’s shitting in her diaper. And the lady who sells mattresses floats like a magic carpet above the blocked type set, her ass not quite as full as it probably is. The man with the toupee tries to sell me rain gutters, even though I live in an apartment and we don’t drink the same coffee. And the local hospital nurse who wants to fuck her patient is far too obvious. Sure…he’s got nice pecs, the correct facial stubble, the blue eyes, he plays guitar on his couch while barefooted, he runs through fields of wildflowers with young women, he climbs and kayaks over waterfalls and runs stairs. I’m not jealous! REALLY! Nutella will soothe my soul and get me off to school, while my neurotic mother runs around the kitchen looking at a camera. There is a bed made out of 6-inch deep foam that will hold on to every bodily fluid ever produced that is, nevertheless, supposed to be comfortable and will, with NASA servomotors, elevate any part of your body, involuntarily. The neighbors did not like someone’s long grass; the neighbors did not like someone’s dog; the neighbors did not like the smell of bacon in the morning; the neighbors are moving to Istanbul; this is local news. Nit tits! And the fish tales…little Angie snagged a minnow! And over on the highway, the traffic is snagged like Angie’s fish on the hook of sudden sunshine or rain. In local sports, the quarterback is asleep while his good friend flies down the highway at hyperspeed. And, all the while, the woman with nice tits tries to outdo the one who floats like a magic carpet above her goods.
Today, I treated myself
and my wife to a pedicure
sat in the massage chair
back rolled and pumped
reading about extinction.
This is how it goes, it seems
you find something you like
then an asteroid shows up.
The Vietnamese woman
drew blood, digging around
and I winced at the Permian
ninety percent of life gone.
I gave up fur, but not meat
and the color is very attractive
but rats, it is said, will live
dragging pizza crusts
into city subway burrows
waiting their turn to ruin
what they thought they earned.
Now dried, my toes look good
as they dig into the earth
waiting for the next apocalypse.
The baby’s head feels like milkweed fluff
before it puffs off on the autumn wind
aaaaaaand I smell him
aaaaaaaaaaaa mixture of sugar and acid
sweet and sour sauce on pork
his skin already a nation, hands
aaaaaagripping the fur of uncertainty
aaaaaaaaaaapreparing a vault
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaover the bar
wrap like tendrils around roots of old
This, the picture of frightening freedom
aaaaaahaving burst from the cocoon
aaaaaaaaaaanymph stage finished
and the wings dry in their own air
aaaaaaaaaaathe mouth parts frozen.
I could crush evolution in my fist
aaaaathe small utensils of speed shattered
and keep him here, a slave to my denial.
To give them what I’ve been given
To spread what I know across the bread
To throw the bop inside the note
To run my hands through my hair!
To close my eyes in the measure
aaaaaaThis note…hold it
aaaaaaThis note…hold it!
NOW hit! Hit! Bam!
aaaaaaaaaaaYou have the bones, man!
This is where we get into the
aaaaa“dwee, bee, ho-dit, dit, dweeeee!”
You got it, got it
Use the bones in your head
aaaaaabang, in the ear, man
And, when you feeeel the motion
When you feel the roll
When you feel the rock in your feet
When you feel it
aaaaaaWhen you FEEL it
aaaaaaaaaaaWHEN YOU FEEEEL IT!
That is where it begins
aaaaaand you will bring it home.
You will bring the HAWG fat!
You will bring the strip DOWN!
You will bring the HEART
aaaaaaAnd it beats
AND IT BEATS!