three poems

by Justin Karcher



After the Staged Reading of a Play That Will Never Be Produced

 

Donna and I are smoking in front of TGI Fridays

when this woman comes up to us

with her hand down her pants.

 

“Take my crabs,” she says

and dramatically whips out her hand

like a magician declaring ta-da!

 

Then, she pretends to flick the sex bugs at us.

 

Donna quickly runs back inside

but the tragic absurdity freezes me in place

and all I can do is silently stare at this woman

 

as the sterile lights of Buffalo’s Theatre District

do their best to shine. They look

like a beach with fallen chandeliers

 

a reminder that not every dashed dream

has a story. But it should. Eventually

the woman's fingers tire and she floats away

 

like driftwood. Sometimes art seems useless.

When I Put Jellybean to Sleep, I Couldn’t Hold Back the Tears

 

That night I wandered the city

and came across an abandoned garage

with ‘Save Gaza’ spray-painted on its door.

 

As I was running my fingers along the vines

I heard a frantic meow from around the corner.

When I went to look, there was this kitten

with a Cheetos bag on its head running in a circle.

 

Carefully, I picked it up and removed the bag.

It fiercely clawed up my arm and then jumped

to freedom. I stood there bleeding as it ran

into the shadows.

My Boss Was Let Go Because of the Big Beautiful Bill

 

She just had knee surgery

and was a week away from vacation.

When I call her, she cries

while talking about kindness.

Afterward, I walk to AA.

 

On the corner near the 7-Eleven

Shirtless Rob is reciting

the Gettysburg Address.

The other day he told me

his band will be bigger than Metallica

but the guitar that he keeps

in a shopping cart only has two strings.

 

After the meeting, I’m in the church kitchen

washing mugs and this other guy is making

a sauce for a fundraiser. He asks me to taste-test

and it’s so sweet I want to sing.




Photo of Justin Karcher

BIO: Justin Karcher (Twitter: @justin_karcher, Bluesky: @justinkarcher.bsky.social) is a Best of the Net- and Pushcart-nominated poet and playwright from Buffalo, NY. He is the author of several books, including Tailgating at the Gates of Hell (Ghost City Press, 2015). Recent playwriting credits include The Birth of Santa (American Repertory Theater of WNY) and “The Buffalo Bills Need Our Help” (Alleyway Theatre). https://www.justinkarcherauthor.com

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