A POEM - THE MAN WHO GAVE A SHIT BUT DIDN'T REALLY

THE MAN WHO GAVE A SHIT BUT DIDN’T REALLY
It was late at night and somebody
had ripped off the bathroom stall
wall and somehow carried it
out of the bar without being seen.
And there he was, on the shitter,
Smiling big and pushing hard, some
God-awful stink. He was had this belly and
this shaved head that gleamed
Under the neon light on the ceiling.
Long, thick, pointy beard and his
Shorts around his ankles. I knew
Then he was a man, a real man,
Unbothered by the status quo, careless
Of what others thought. He was a man
Who, while delivering a shit out into
the world, just really didn’t give a shit.

"WHEN THE ROAD IS DARK AND THE DESTINATION UNKNOWN, THINGS ARE JUST AS THEY SHOULD BE. FOR THE LONELY ONES, THEY ARE THE GREATEST ONES."

A SHORT SHORT STORY - EDWARD

EDWARD
by JACK TOM

For the last seventeen years, Edward had woken up and dressed and gone down to the coffee shop two blocks away from his apartment. But this past Tuesday was different. Edward woke up and dressed but didn’t go to his coffee shop. He instead got into his car and drove down to the local hardware store and went inside. He’d only been into that hardware store a handful of times and nobody there recognized him.
He found the isle which had work gloves and he pulled on two rubber gloves and then went to another isle, the one with the axes and hammers. He picked out an axe and went up to the counter. A man was behind the register, his hand on the counter. Edward raised the axe and brought it down onto the man’s hand, cutting off his fingers.
The man yelped and yanked his fingerless hand back towards his chest and he screamed, “what he hell’d you do that for?”
Edward beamed and smirked and replied, “For the last seventeen years I’ve woken up in the morning and gone out for a coffee and over my coffee I’ve thought about coming in here and pulling this off. It’s too bad for you that you were the one working the register.”

A POEM - THE COMMON HOTEL FIGHT

THE COMMON HOTEL FIGHT
The first thing somebody does
When they’re sleeping in the room
next door to your room,
when you’re being too loud,
blasting music or shouting and fighting,
is bang on the wall.
I’ve always found this funny,
Because the only thing
that makes me wanna do,
Is bang back harder,
louder and much meaner.
And so I do,
And then they bang back,
And there we go,
Some little war started again,
Between rooms in a hotel,
Between two different types of people,
Who keep different hours,
And enjoy different volumes of music,
Maybe different types of music, too.
But that’s all there is in this world,
Little wars going on between people,
With separate systems of belief,
Separate ideologies,
Separate gods and whatnot.
And it’s a beautiful world to live in,
If you’re like me,
And you enjoy fighting and yelling,
And especially banging on walls
Of people you’ve never met,
And will most likely never see.

A POEM - THE ARRIVAL OF GERARD

So it had begun.
Gerard had arrived.
I was sitting there,
At the hotel bar,
Chain-smoking reds,
Slurping at Beer Chang,
Just trying to stay awake.
Then I saw this figure
Walk up the steps,
Over towards the lobby.
“mister fucking Gerard,”
I said to him.
He looked over,
Smiled that million dollar smile,
And it was on.
Beer after beer,
Smoke after smoke,
We talked and laughed,
And held great conversations,
Something of which I was
Badly in need.
Towards the end of the night,
as the sky lit up,
We stumbled up the stairs,
To our luxurious hotel room,
AC and private bathroom,
Four fuckin’ windows.
"Oh, Christ," I said,
"It's so goddamn good to see you."

A POEM - HE WAS OFF TO A BAD START

HE WAS OFF TO A BAD START
He must have woken up in the morning
By hearing the garbage truck outside.
The men were grunting and
Throwing the trash bags into the truck.
I heard him jump out of bed.
He’d forgotten to
Put out his trash the night before,
So he tumbled down the stairs and
didn’t bother with shoes
and when he finally made it
Outside the garbage truck was rolling
Down the street.
He tried to wave it down
but as he moved across
The small front lawn
He stepped in a pile of dog shit
Left there by our neighbor’s Jack
Russell Terrier.
He watched the garbage truck drive away
and he held h
is hands up and wrung them at the sky
and shouted, “goddamn mother-
Fucking dogs! Clean up yer fucking shit.”
I was inside my living room drinking a beer.
After witnessing the whole
spectacle I let out a chuckle and
Took another swig from my bottle,
It was just another reminder to me
why it was better to stay inside,
stay inside where I was safe and alone,
better not to risk going out there
to face the world.

A POEM - SHE WAS LEARNING HOW TO DRINK BEER

SHE WAS LEARNING HOW TO DRINK BEER
She came in the door and slammed it shut.
My dog jumped up from my feet
and ran growling through the hallway
and into the kitchen where she recognized my girlfriend
And began to prance around.
“I hate Sam Adams,” my girlfriend called out to me.
“it’s so gross.”
I remained at the keys and chuckled and said,
“still trying to learn how to drink beer?”
“yup.”
I reached out for my bottle of Miller High Life
and sucked down a few mouthfuls.
“just give it time, babe. Practice makes
perfect, right?”
“I guess, but I hate that Sam Adams. What terrible stuff.”
“yeah, I’m not a fan of it either. Too bitter and heavy. Stick with the lighter ones like Corona or High Life.”
“ok,” she replied. “I gotta get ready to go to
work now.”
“all right, babe. Make some money.”