Six Smooches – Sam Pink

November 21, 2024

THE SIMPLEST TECHNIQUE BECOMES LETHAL IF TOO LONG FORGOTTEN [TRAITOR’S DEATH]

 

Stay away from falling objects.
Beware, falling objects.
I devoted twenty years to that shit.
At best an investment in no
never again. Because I was one too.
Some emerge from cocoons
brand new and beautiful.
And some, an explosion.
Both tho, mostly known for
what’s left behind.
A 1-2 where the jab is birth
and the cross is a meteor
traveling since before birth
from a place
that hasn’t even been mapped.
A 1-2 where the jab is
a kiss to the forehead
and the cross is a meteor
traveling since before birth
from a place
that hasn’t been mapped and
doesn’t even exist
but you wait and wait
and in so doing, it’s all the same.
The universe, a joke in constant unravel.
I devoted 20 years.
Think of billions of reincarnations
where you appear to strangers
in brief intervals like a bug
on a picnic table or
trees in the background, mostly unnoticed.
This can be you with yourself
in a single lifetime, a single moment.
Yeah because you’re one too.
You do it to yourself
like the slut you are.

 

THE BIG FRIENDLY OCEAN

 

I’ve been thinking about Chicago.
Feeling nostalgic
for moments that
at the time
I’d do anything to flee.
Recalling them now
fondly.
But I guess
in the middle of the ocean
there’s freedom on all sides too.

 

BREAST MILK POEM

 

I used to do deliver day at the bar with this chick who could lift a 1/2 barrel. Not jacked or anything just strong. Anyway she recently got back from maternity leave. Been pumping at work and keeping the breast milk in the cooler. She offered me some and we were laughing because I told her if I drank it, I’d probably wake up in the middle of a field days later with my clothes tattered like a werewolf.

 

EXECUTIONER

 

I can be held responsible
for past versions of myself
solely as executioner.

 

RENTAL GRAVE

 

Be careful
projecting your own mentality
onto people you hate.
You might just make it
easier to hate yourself.
And not even do it right.
Adding flowers to a grave
from which you wake up
every morning.

 

THE FLIES

 

I’m behind the bar
looking out a glass door
with my back turned
to a group
settled at a table.
They’re celebrating
someone’s bday.
Talking about
various chain retailers
they like.
One of them says
Target is getting a bar.
And there is
general excitement.
You can get a Targarita there,
she says. Others say
how much they like
being at Target.
One of them
doesn’t like Panera tho.
None of them
like Panera.
But they all like Chipotle!
One of them
recently discovered
the meal prep subscription
she uses
costs the same as
going out.
I’m opening and closing
one eye at a time
to make some smudges
on the glass door
dance a little.
It gets dark at like
4pm now. A fly
buzzes up to the door
from the inside
bumping against the pane.
There’s been a ton
of dead flies
by the door
every morning
when I come in.
Hundreds of them.
That I then sweep up.