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Joseph Szalinski Poem
Not a mythical creature,
or the patriarch of a lewd, cartoon family,
you are my roommate.
Well, one of them,
and you have been for two years now.
Superhero posters make your room your own.
Perhaps you’re concealing a secret identity
when you refuse to hang out with us;
on late night drives,
lunch or dinner,
all we do is make awkward small talk.
And you’re the only one
to keep his door locked.
Your girlfriend never comes around anymore,
you’re always at her place,
though, we don’t mind.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell where you are.
Perhaps you’re a murderer,
waiting for us to leave
so you can indulge in violent ceremony.
Whatever you’re into.
In the words of Jerry Garcia,
I implore you,
“Please don’t murder me.”
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2020
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
Killing time before a movie,
an ex and I
rifles thru what the nearby shoppes had to offer,
hoping to be aroused by some
remarkable deal.
I was making a Facebook post in
the first row of used clothes
when Eric sent me a text:
“Got some extra muscle relaxers
laying around.
Would you be interested?
I know you and your buddies like to
get into all kinds of shenanigans.
Haha.”
Told him that I’d
“keep him posted”
while I used the movie
to consider his offer.
Anecdotes of friends were recalled,
and even though
it would’ve been fun to
mix with something else,
I decided the money would be
better spent on something
that could get me
ed up instead.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
Next to my mattress
is a mirror
decorated with crude stickers
stolen from a dirty bathroom in
a seedy bar
in Polish Hill.
Great for staring into when waking up
for the day.
My ex-girlfriend also liked it
when we had sex, because
she enjoyed watching herself bounce
on me, on my memory foam,
admiring her heavy-breathing form...
But I've never looked into it
during sex.
No.
I avoided it like Medusa's head of snakes!
I've never done the mirror sex move
from American Psycho;
never emulated Patrick Bateman,
flexing while inches deep in a tight,
sopping .
No,
no Huey Lewis and the News either--
no music, actually.
All that could be heard were muffled moans
and pleasured panting.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2020
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
We bought the get-up
at the local thrift store.
I elected to dress like a cop,
much to the amusement
of the female Dollar Store employees
who whistled and made comments
about me being a stripper,
when we came through
the checkout line.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
It carries with it, connotations of vibrancy,
freshness, renewal, sustainability, health.
All this is reminiscent of us, how we are;
How our new love sprang shortly after Easter,
Two days after 4/2/0.
It’s the eye color we share,
Like long stares, up stairs
In my room in the attic.
The canopy of the house;
The leaves and branches
of the tree we dwelled in
It is the staggering ignorance we faced
When we decided to take a chance,
But even in our unversed status,
We persevered.
It is the envy I recognized
When I first saw you.
The attention, the conversation, the consideration
You gave onto others, I wished for myself.
And that compelled me so, I knew
I had only one choice.
Now or never,
The light changed.
Go!
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2020
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
“She was your cousin?”
They would all echo,
their half-faux-sympathy was pathetic,
and it made me feel even
more so.
What would they have done
had they been privy to such knowledge before?
Invited me to parties?
Would I have gotten girls to go out with me?
At least I got to hear about how
great she was.
The cousin I barely knew…
who, through her passing--
through her friends,
I came to know more.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
Swaying and shuffling to the bathroom,
once again,
I hoped this time that I’d summon the wherewithal
to finally start my Saturday.
But my visit was bookended by
my usual return to bed.
The previous night’s tequila and IPA’s
had been reincarnated as leftover remnants of vomit that
spackled the roof of my mouth.
Voice deepened by hangover—
also made hoarse from
shouting over the bands, in the belly of the Roxian,
let out a groan
as I shifted in the cozy-yet-itchy cradle of the basement couch,
trying my best to avoid the irritating sunlight…
face shoved into the upholstery,
smothered by pillows.
Nose dizzied by the familiar scents of home
dulled and havocked by cigarette smoke from
Rudy’s High Dive,
where the bartender remembered I wanted to be a writer, as a kid,
but all the THC made it hard for me to remember what
I’d just said to him.
Just then, I was disturbed by
incessant tapping—frequent and forceful, like my offbeat attempts
at matching the rhythm of Donna the Buffalo
on the venue’s upper floor’s safety railing.
Seeing how ignoring it proved fruitless,
I dragged my body upstairs to find my dad.
He too was slumped on a sofa
safely transported to & from McKees Rocks
on his first ever Uber ride.
While I showered,
Timmy Z snooped around, eventually discovering
the culprit of the commotion:
a trapped woodpecker.
We armed ourselves with brooms
swatted, batted, and shooed,
dodging our feathery friend’s
maneuvers near our heads
as it flew out the door before company arrived.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2020
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
“CPR is only done to dead people,”
or, at least, I was taught that
in an oddly-lit conference room
at a local EMS center.
The instructor would’ve had to have
used me as a real example if the
course took any longer.
I showed all the tell tale signs:
-unresponsive
-no pulse
-no breathing
After a grueling three hours,
and more info than I cared to learn,
or more fake babies stuffed inside cases like laundered money or rented school instruments than I cared to see,
my classmates and I “graduated”
CPR class!
Only one stipulation…
a fee—
I had no idea I’d be charged.
Work would’ve reimbursed me, but
that would’ve been too much of a hassle.
Instead, I sat quietly, amongst the chattering fitness dorks, as our cards were being printed, knowing full well
the pile of cash he swept into his envelope was a little light.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
Loyal companion
whose racing paws &
booming howl is heard before
she is seen.
A wonderful addition to a family
who’s known loss.
Grayed from the years, you still seem playful and spritely,
albeit a little fluffy.
I wonder if you’d remember me after all this time?
If you’d still excitedly greet me for licks, sniffs, and scratches;
the piece of a broken
relationship I miss the most.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2022
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Joseph Szalinski Poem
An innocent game of release
made dirty by a devious trick
devised by Sean’s older brother, Brandon.
“Guys, we give up!”
he yelled.
The treeline bustled with life
as kids emerged from the woods;
Cubscouts crawled from the underbrush--
“Just kidding!”
he added as he tagged
the bewildered players
against their protests.
Copyright © Joseph Szalinski | Year Posted 2021
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