Mitchell Grabois poetry


I knew the alphabet
and little else
(math mystified me
science and business were out)
so I decided to be a writer

the most refined kind
a poet
where the magic of my sick unconscious
could be gainfully employed
and I wouldn’t have to collect books
or think about anything

My lines made love on the page
heterosexual lines
one a pretty redhead with lots of freckles
one a black-haired man with an ugly tattoo

The redhead liked to fall for dangerous men
The tattoo guy didn’t think about the future

The redhead sometimes drank too much
and acted provocatively toward other men
when they were in dive bars

Tattoo got pissed
held her hard
by the upper arm
dragged her outside into the
cool, misting night
and slapped her

She was no pushover
She slapped him back
He punched her
She fell to the gravel
and cursed him roundly

A guy from the bar came out
He wanted to fuck Redhead
He stabbed Tattoo

The lines on the page turned from
black to red
Blood soaked my hard-drive
my computer crashed
harder than a virus

It’s tough being a writer
A little writer’s block would do me good