Happy New Year

Lee: I could be Ethiopian.

Brian: You could be. But you're not.

guh...

AOL's Hot Searches for the day are Scarlett Johansson, NFL, Hanukkah, and unemployment.

I need to go to bed.

follow-up to poker haiku

so, after plugging away for some time i managed to dig myself out of the bad beat mire to make...are you ready?...drum roll please...30 cents!

"congratulations lee! you've grinded your way through a field of hundreds! what are you going to do with the money?!"

"well, chip! it's tough. i'm deciding between a bag of 25 vitners cheeze kurls or a postage stamp."

"well, lee. we're very proud of you and can't wait to have you back to be the object of every donkey's suck-out."

"i can't wait either, chip! i can't fucking wait!"

poker haiku written on a very bad day

Wake up with aces

go to bed with dick in hand

and the cable bill

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

episode at work today

me: put the seat belt around your waist.

customer: how do i do that?

me: put the seat belt around your waist.

A Town and a Bar

Dave and I once went to this bar called
The Green Door or The Red Door or something

it was quiet studio-size two-dollar screw-drivers
3 ex-cons sitting at 3 separate stools

I remember this bar

because it was the first time I ever thought I might get stabbed

we finished our drinks and got the hell out of there

The ex-cons silent

I remember this bar

because it reminds me of who I am

a guy afraid of getting stabbed

while some ex-cons sit silent

thinking of legitimate jobs

Not too long after that
the mayor of the town that bar was in got arrested

I think it was embezzlement

She’s probably out by now

and the ex-cons are probably back in

or worse

working legitimate jobs

I don’t care much for Cicero, Illinois

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Résumé

I shaved my head in December

that was a bad idea

I cooked for a girl that likes to fist fight

that was a bad idea too

I tried to bluff against a huge stack w/ two pair on the board and a lousy kicker

not a good idea

I crapped my pants in third grade

embarrassed I took them off and streaked down the hall w/ my coat pulled down over my rear

Bad idea

no one bought it

I became a poet at 14

Good idea in high school

Bad idea later

Since then my writing has gotten better

my limit hold‘em game too

I make a mean tilapia ceviche

for myself

I also crap my pants less

and have a degree in journalism

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

I Remember Where I Was When it Happened

Was at work a couple days ago, stationed by the exit.

A customer came up to the door. Stared blankly at it. Then at me.

Took me a few seconds before I realized what he wanted.

"Push it," I told him.

He did.

It worked.

It was 10:23 A.M.

as he walked out the door

of the Henry Crown Museum

of Space Exploration

and drove somewhere

far away.

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Post-Thanksgiving Poem

A paycheck short

The Hustler’s on T.V.

I pour a martini

too tired to shave

5 hours ‘til work

I make tomorrows spaghetti

it is November 28, 2008

the turkey is gone

I will be thankful if my paycheck gets here
before the rent check gets cashed

there is a slice of pie

I won $2.95 in poker today

I’m thankful for that

4 hours 30 minutes ‘til work

sleep

Tomorrow’s November 29, 2008

I’ll watch the History Channel

and toss cranberry sauce off the balcony

because the holidays are the holidays

celebrity deaths
socks
and slush

Some people run into each other
then it’s over

like rush hour

like this poem

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Movie Time

The two latest movies at the Omnimax are
WILD OCEAN
and
GRAND CANYON ADVENTURE

Museum features always have a way of over-selling themselves

GRAND CANYON ADVENTURE
is about a river

WILD OCEAN
is about sardines

WORK EXPLOSION! is todays feature

It stars me
eating carrots in the break room
and staring at the wall

It’s either this
or nap time

“You remember that scene where he’s drinking a Squirt in the bathroom?”

“Yeah, that was so fucking funny.”

“Or that one where he walks half-way to Subway during lunch before he changes his mind and turns around?”

“Yeah, that was sad.”

In closing

our rivers are at risk

sardines something something

I’m out of carrots

please gather all of your personal belongings

and exit at the top

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

For Dan, Lindsey, and Brian

The pretty Hungarian girls bundled up at Hollywood Grill
the Czech bars are empty
and the hostels dark

I’ve got work tomorrow

‘cus poetry only pays the printer

but I have my friends
and my pinto beans

so that counts for something

but not much

since this is a short poem

and I forgot to buy tortillas

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Little Hells

Big-thighed Latinas riding by on bicycles
as the loud mariachi music blares out of beat-up tanks of cars
and it is Noble Square Mexican-town and it is a great thing
in the cool late spring night air of Chicago

I take a sip off my Evan Williams
and forget about my overdrawn bank account constipation
lack of love brain wired in a skull going straight to Jewish hell
waiting for my roommate to stumble home with his usual drunk
from his usual bar so I can borrow ten dollars from him

I can’t complain too much
I’ve got a low-paying but good job in a museum
for every little shit I see there’s a glorious smiling little tyke
whose parents actually give a damn
and who wants to see every dinosaur possible within that day
and there is no shortage of gorgeous black women
working the ticket booth with me

but still some of it’s hell
some of it needs to be hell
it keeps us on our toes

lest we become smiling Danish couples
happy with everything on the menu
or freckled moms in shirts with advertisements
and Umbro shorts with 700 kids
reading terrible romantic literature in a Panera Bread window

but not me
I’m halfway between
and that’s the best I can hope for
while my ice melts
and the whiskey tastes weak

Little hells
to keep us on our toes

I shouldn’t have that big-thighed Latina riding by on her bicycle

None of us should

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

SUPER INSOMNIA FUN TIME!!!

insomnia's an interesting animal.
it's the only time when it's logical to chase a beer with a cup of coffee.
i'm typing this at 6:28 a.m.
countdown one hour 'til i leave for my shit job.
hop on the train with well-rested idiots going to panera bread or artichoke festivals or whatever crap people do up before 8 a.m. on a saturday.
sorry, no poems this time.
just my old friend trying to clamp my eyes shut while he wires my brain.
it's 6:31 a.m.
good morning.
goddamnit.

Untitled

On top of my air-conditioner
clacking away again
while frightened armies go to bed
and Irish girls I used to love
laugh at Spanish television
and drink screwdrivers
and they bury the writers
and they bury the chess players
and they especially bury the unburiable
and there’s nothing on T.V.
except Spanish sitcoms and news of the dead
and scrambled porn and wristwatches
and I look out the window and onto the freeway
at the light-up lottery sign
and there’s nothing on it
and they bury the dictators
and they bury the actors and the cyclists
and they especially bury us
alive
in our homes
at the dinner table
with the electricity of our past loves
and a glass of water

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Obama To-do List

1. create a fiscally responsible economic stimulus package.

2. air out cheney's corpse feeding room.

3. victory pound wife.

4. netflix

5. nap

6. do tony montana-sized mound of coke and stay up for three years 350 days fixing the mire of shit left behind by the bush administration.

7. get re-elected.

8. become ruler of own island where karl rove, dick cheney, g.w. bush, lindsey graham, tom delay, and every other jagoff republican has to wrestle to the death.

9. kill the winner.

On Being a Poet

When you’re a kid
on Saturday afternoon
your lunch
is probably something like
a salami sandwich
and Spaghettios

and when you’re an adult
it’s pretty much the same
except it’s dinner
Thursday
at 10:30 p.m.

and your milk
is a can
of cheap beer
like High Life
or Old Style

make that a few glasses of milk

and you work tomorrow
instead of school

you finished school
long ago
and realized
most of it’s
bullshit

you wanted to be
an astronaut when
you grew up

and now
you’re all grown up
and serving the astronauts
chocolate-covered truffles
and gummi fruit salad

I was a kid
until I picked up “HOWL”
and that made me want to be a poet

So this bowl of Ramen’s for you
Ginsberg

You fucking asshole

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

To That Woman That Snapped Her Fingers in my Face at the Spirits Tasting

I just wanted to let you know

we did have some ice

a big bag of it

I was lying

and afterwards

I took the bag home

put on “Thunder Road”

and made love to it

then we drank Penfolds wine
ate Stouffers pork cutlet dinners
and watched Malcolm in the Middle

the ice drove me to work the next day

and as I got out of its Mini-Cooper
it grabbed me by the hand
looked me straight in the eye
and thanked me for not putting it in your glass

it then took Lake Shore Drive to the public beach

parked

got out

found a nice sunny spot away from the crowds

laid in the sand

and happily melted into oblivion
knowing
that it hadn’t been prison-raped
by your clown lips

meanwhile

Sam’s Wines and Spirits opened its doors

to the freezer trucks

and a brand new day

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

When I Die I'll Have to File for Unemployment

Not much to do at work
so I wikipediad Pablo Picasso and Babe Ruth
while the pickpockets and Gary, Indiana moms
with Marlboro Menthol faces and diabetic ugly kids
waddled through the human heart exhibit and Toy Maker factory

the more they believe in God
the uglier they get

Babe Ruth was skinny
and Pablo Picasso was a Communist

Grand Canyon Adventure lets out
the families make their way towards the astronauts

Christ be with you I think

and turn off the computer

I wish I was a trust fund kid

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

snot n' haiku stuffins

Sorry 'bout the hiatus folks. You'll be happy to know I have my own internet connection now. No more masturbating at the window for this guy!
Lessee, what's new. Have a murderous cold. As a result, on just a few hours of sleep. Kids coughing in my face all day long will do that.
Me and Kid Douche went to the Horseshoe on Sunday. It's relatively new but it is in the Hammond, Indiana area. So give it a year til it looks like shit. My only real complaint is that everything's on one floor and the poker room is all the way in the back. So you have to walk through an abyss of slot sleeze and ugly cocktail waitresses before you make it there. The poker room was nice though. Tall ceilings and done up in an old-west motif.
Played the 3/6 limit game and finished ahead about 15 bucks. Which means after the rake and tips I broke even. Yay. But hey, that's casino poker.
Keeping with the haiku theme, here're two of my faves:

Even at the time
When my father lay dying
I still kept farting.

-Yamazaki Sokan (1464-1552)

My span of years
Today appears
A morning-glory's hour.

-Arkida Moritake (1472-1549)

Your sickly Jew -Lee

An American Retail Hymn

I said unto God
“deliver me from retail”

and God said back
“here’s a price-gun dipshit.
Get to work.”

and he smote me
w/ seasonal Bailey’s Irish creams and cargo pants
shots of wheatgrass and Harry Chapin Christmas giveaway CDs

and I sayeth
“why God why”

and he sayeth back unto me

“Follow the 15 stupid customers
in Indiana University sweat pants
and they will show you the way”

so
for 40 days
and 40 nights
we wandered the aisles of Jewel/Osco
in search of Yellow Tail Shiraz
and Jays Dip‘ems potato chips

until finally
weak from hunger and fatigue
we all reached the promised land

a pensionless death
in Albany

and let U.S. say
amen

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

I've Always (for Julie)

I’ve always sympathized more
with the street sweepers
and the old men in Jewel
feeling up the tangelos

riding the brown line
back from the locksmith
with a can of Spaghettios
in my left pocket
and a whiskey hangover

I’ve always been a hair away
from being the cab driver
in the porn store
at 3 A.M.
on Thanksgiving

or the guy
who thinks there’s money
in real estate

and I always will be

because
that’s pretty much
what a poet is

and I’ve always loved you

in the way stock guys
love management

and the cab driver
loves porno

and the old man
loves tangelos

and the street sweeper
gave up

and watches
the cars pass

I love you

like Spaghettios

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

A Love Note for Joe Maddon

(to anybody who doesn't care about baseball: DO NOT READ ON. you will be bored)

Needed to take some time to officially announce my man-crush on Joe Maddon.

For those of you who don't know who he is, he's the manager of the AL-champs currently going to the World Series, the Tampa Bay Rays.

For those of you unfamiliar with the team, they're a ten-year-old franchise who until this year had never finished a season with an over .500 record.

The new ownership took a chance on this bookworm/baseball genius who wears big black thick-rimmed nerd glasses and uses existential philosphy to motivate players. And behold! Look what happened.

Joe Maddon, you are an S.O.B. in the best possible way. As a Cubs fan (and a baseball nerd) I feel a kinship with the Rays. Except the Rays only have ten years of failure to overcome. Oh, and the Rays are competent.

That you took a team of young guns (Cliff Floyd pretty much being the only vet) and got them to believe in themselves and tap into their resources this quickly and to this degree is simply amazing.

Kill the Phillies. Ever since Larry Bowa left I haven't given a shit about them anyway.

Man-love,

Lee

P.S. Jim Hickey, I haven't forgotten about you. You're one of the best pitching coaches around.

Happy Birthday Max

The workdays get longer

The angry Russian men come in
wearing bluetooth headsets
beer guts expanding gray and black fake silk shirts

the truth is in the broken radio
and Max the stockman
celebrating his 75th birthday on the job

the buzz of the light
like an obese mosquito

while we hide in the cooler
eating pork rinds
and dreaming of the latina sample-girl’s thighs

everyone of us
running out the clock

the nukes will take us

before they take him

9 o’ clock

Happy Birthday Max

let’s punch out
and get the fuck out of here

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Mike's Bachelor Party

C.J. and Cherry
showed up

and did
what C.J. and Cherry do

their snatches
in the air

their tits
covered in Redi-whip

making the guys
wish they were stock brokers
or successful travel show hosts

as C.J. and Cherry
drank orange juice

and worked the crowd
like used-car salesmen

as I stared at the lamp

and when the money ran out
they begged

and the silence
was deafening

as the guys all had wind-socks

and felt bad

C.J. and Cherry
packed their things up

and left

and it felt
like those scenes
in The Wonder Years
where Kevin Arnold
made an ass of himself

and you had to change the channel

because
it was just too
difficult to watch

and when you turned back

it was 15 guys
back where they started from
at 1:15 A.M.

no beer

and $500 short

show’s over

goodnight
Winnie Cooper

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

FRANK CALIENDO HAIKU EXPLOSION! WINNER! AHHHH!

After one on-the-record vote and one off-the-record vote (bringing the total to a whopping two) we have a winner in the FRANK CALIENDO HAIKU EXPLOSION! contest:



Haiku for Frank Caliendo

Fat Shatner
fat Al Pacino

Fat Barkley!

© 2008 Lee Kitzis



Thank you to all who voted and go fuck yourself Frank Caliendo.

Jasmine

Your name is so beautiful

People who didn’t know you

might think you were a delicate flower
or an intoxicating scent

they would never guess
you’re a 115-pound girl
covered in tattoos
who likes Pabst Blue Ribbon
random violence
and Wrestlemania

and that’s why I love you

because girls with tattoos
never love me back

I guess it’s because
there’s nothing particularly bad-ass
about a skinny bearded Jewish man
in an Eddie Bauer jacket
and khaki pants

with a pocketful of undersexed writing
and nasal decongestant

but somehow
God found a way
for us to come together

maybe it’s because
opposites attract

or maybe it’s because
I’ve always wanted to have sex
with a girl who could kick my ass

Ahhh Jasmine

my angry flower
who has roller derby practice on Sundays

with your intoxicating scent
of B.O. Cool Ranch Doritos and pot smoke

No one knows your name

and that’s why I love you

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Christmas Contemplations From a Half-assed Jew Looking Out His Window

I taste zinc in my mouth for some reason

and am thinking about moving to Thailand

outside it’s Christmas

and everyone’s waiting for the ham and the noose

Howie Mandel’s still on television

and the dead are still piling up in Basra

but at least we have wreaths

and a few tight pussies left

that’ll save the world

Merry Christmas

from me
the Chinese

and Jesus in a bunker in Fallujah

playing Stratego

and waiting

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Poem Written in Between Playoff Games

This old Chinese lady
about four-foot-eight
kept nudging her elbow into me on the train

You have to jiggle the handle just right on our toilet
to get it to stop running
I call it the “fairy jiggle”
very lightly

Ryan Howard has struck out 199 times this season
he is also one of the ugliest men in baseball
a black Mickey Morandini

Mickey Appleman is a professional poker player
hailing from the Mayfair Club days
a mad statistician and teacher with an MBA
Howard Lederer currently holds a two-to-one chip lead over him

I fairy jiggle the handle and think
of the weather in Prague
and a dry martini

A piece of shit floats back to the top
and I think of the Cubs
and that old Chinese lady

I flush again

You can’t wine ‘em all

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

My Roommate/My Muse

There’s something beautiful and mysterious
about the whole thing

when you leave your period stains
on the toilet seat

or try to convince me
why I need to pay most of the gas bill

there’s a poem in there
somewhere

when you leave rice
on the floor for three weeks

or I come home
to the sound of Pink Floyd
and fat people sex

there’s something beautiful and mysterious
about the whole thing

When you tell my friends to get out
even though the lease
is in both of our names

or leave crusted rice
all over my good scotch glass

or drink my tonic water

or drink my beer

or accuse me
of going through your things
when I ask for a piece of dental floss

there’s a beautiful and mysterious poem in there somewhere

like Walt Whitman

or John Donne

or the mysterious haiku poets
of ancient Japan

that inscribed their poems on mountain tops

and were inspired by the clouds

there’s a poem in there somewhere

just for you

when I find your hair
in the bathtub drain

or the sink

or the couch

or my clothes

or you show me
those beautiful drawings you do

which consist of zigzags
and squiggly lines
and crumpled up pieces of toilet paper

I want to go to the mountaintops

and shout your name

like the ancient haiku poets
of Japan

I want to shout a beautiful and mysterious poem

that I just haven’t found yet

just for you

my roommate

my muse

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

They Don't Even Shut up at 1:45 in the Morning

She has the bible
marked off

at 100 points

for 100 answers
she never found

at 1:45 in the morning

all I have

is my roommate’s
Jesus bobble-head
on the bathroom windowsill

we listen to her

on channel 32

‘til she finishes

and I feel a beer-shit
come on

I run to him

it’s just gas

this concludes
our weekly bible lesson

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

How to Write a Poem

When the homeless become dull

and spirituality becomes an asshole that owes you money

When “The Antiques Roadshow” becomes the highlight of your day

and you’ve forgotten the touch of a woman

When you realize every poet and writer that came before you was a moron that failed

and “Everybody Loves Raymond” just isn’t that funny

When the bar becomes a bar

and the weight of the world is no longer your concern

When your gut’s getting bigger

and the president is still an idiot

When you have no money in your bank account

and the Spanish girls don’t notice you crying in the grocery aisle

When you’re more concerned about the gnomish 44-year-old virgin
drinking Riesling alone in his mother’s kitchen
than starving children in Africa

and 5-man pitching rotations are more important than God
because “God” is just something made up by poets to get laid
and “poets” is just something made up by God to fill hell

When you think you will never find love

and when love finds you it gets knocked up by a Lutheran from Kansas City

write it down

and make it sound pretty

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Chicago in July

When the fireworks go off

and scatter all the rats
and the cockroaches
at Pulaski Park

and barista girls
lay worn and pantiless
in sundresses

drinking warm Miller Lite
by cracked windows

and the homeless
nestle in Lincoln Park back alleys

next to abandoned generators

and inoperable dozers

on a city
of useless machinery

where young couples grocery shop
and kiss hands

and a pitcher
is always losing
on one side of town

where Puerto Rican gangs
mug Buddhists for food

and old men
lumber across streets
at 2 a.m.

kittens shit in alleys

and the heat is too much

the old folks home
has three lights on

waiting

and the cops aren’t coming

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

FRANK CALIENDO HAIKU EXPLOSION!

Hey all. So I need your help. My buddy Mr. Kid Douche and I were hanging out. Very foul mood on account of the Cubs Cubbing it up as they usually do. Got on the topic of Frank Caliendo. Easily one of the most unfunny and untalented pieces of shit to ever walk the face of the earth (along with everyone else associated with MADtv). Not much to say other than a funny Caliendo-ripping session occurred, out of which I’ve written two haikus. Can’t decide which one I like more. Need help. Vote in the comments section. Majority wins of course. Very Best. –Lee

(inspired by and dedicated to Kid Douche)

Haiku for Frank Caliendo #1

Lotus blossoms bloom
the grasshopper jumps higher

Fat Al Pacino

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Haiku for Frank Caliendo #2

Fat Shatner
fat Al Pacino

Fat Barkley!

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

The Real Sounds of Lovers

We had a great time that night
drunk 3:30 A.M. taking short breaks
in between screws
me sniffling in your ear
because I couldn’t find my Afrin nasal spray
and you
with this weird drunk snore
like a cross between Darth Vader
and air escaping from a balloon

Those are the real sounds of lovers
they never say “You mean so much to me”
or “I love you more than life itself”
they say things like “Roll the fuck over”
or “You want another Old Style?”

and I never put anything romantic on in the background
like Miles Davis or Chopin
it was usually the Cubs game
and when we’d finish
I’d lean over and ask you
if Ron Santo got you hot

cus this world’s cruel
and cus soon we’ll be old and unfuckable
and all we’ll have are our memories
of the Cubs blowing it against the Mets
and air escaping from a balloon

This is why
the real sounds of lovers
is the most important thing there is

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Monday Morning and it's Still all the Same

I woke up
to the sound of Chan Marshall

orthopedic heat pads on the floor
books of poetry
and used cognac bottles

the dust bunnies collecting like armies
and my stomach’s in pain

four new gray hairs

and no love for months

I feel sorry
for the people with bibles under their arms

the grocery store clerk

and the Yellow Cab driver
with a gun to his head

the birds that taunt the insomniacs

and the ones that have slept for 8 hours
but are tired for reasons
they can’t understand

and I don’t either

and we never will

last night
I dreamt I lost the dog
of a woman I love
but could not tell

We were in the city
and he was gone

but she didn’t care

then I woke up
Monday morning
to the sound of Chan Marshall

and it was a very good song

for all of us

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

The Laundromat Girl

It’s a lonely life
as a Laundromat girl

Nothin’ to do
but watch clothes spin
in the Dexter Stack Cycle
and kids drowning
on the channel five news

counting down the hours
10 ‘til the doors close
11 when the cycles stop

I’m sitting
reading the Dhammapada
asking what Buddha would do
keeping an eye on my tighty-whities

Relax Lee
free yourself of attachment
a homeless guy
isn't interested in
wearing your underwear

and I’m hoping
the cute girl across the way
spies me reading some Buddhist text

and she’ll think I’m a thinking man
and we’ll strike up conversation
and fuck back at my place

God I’m awful at this Buddhist thing

But she leaves

and it’s just me and the Laundromat girl

and the Bears losing
on TV

She’s short
stocky
Hispanic
black thick-rimmed
glasses
that “lonely librarian” look
as Jeremy and I
call it

and I imagine
I take her
into the back room
behind the jumbo driers
and make love to her
and for that short period of time
she’s not a Laundromat girl
and I’m not in retail

and I’d say
some cheesy line
like
“You’re the fabric of my life”
or
“I think my laundry’s done”

and I’d load up my things
and walk off

at 11 on the dot

when the cycles stop

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

A Brief History of the Cubs

billy goat

black cat

steve

next year

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Another Short Poem

hemingway typed standing up

i type sitting in a lawn chair

that’s not very romantic

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

I Found Religion in a Roller Derby Girl

It’s Sunday morning
the sunlight
bathing the Phoenix wing tattoos
on your back
and your punk rock cat
w/ the studded collar
and the toe fetish
purring at my feet

Hung-over
w/ a stomach full of
Trader Joe’s cheese
and wine-in-a-box

and you with the jimmy legs
hogging the covers
while the pope’s
getting ready for bed

We’re just a couple of Atheists
and the only thing waking us up
is the baseball scores
on the clock radio

One week ago
we were drinking Pabst pints
at Healy’s
listing our broken dreams

You told me
you wanted to be
the first ballerina to dance
on the moon

I said I did too
and knew
the joys of morning-after sex
during the service
when the choir
hits the high note
and you dig your nails
into my back

and then
the service is over

and the concluding prayer

and the pope’s praying before bed

but I got what I want
in the devil on your stomach
on Sunday morning
and the sunlight bathing
the Phoenix wing tattoos
on your back

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

For Dan

You said no one wants to read about misery all the time

so this poem’s for you

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

A Short Poem

Most human beings dream of flying

while the fly dreams of a pile of shit

The Best Job on the Planet

I wake up at 3 p.m.
avoiding all the daytime judge shows
with just enough time for a cup of coffee and a quick peek
at the women in scarves at the local produce stand
before the reruns

and I have no problem with taking a beer shit
as the world rages outside

disappointment in coffee bars
elation in drugstores
murder stocks a person of the week

Mark bought the good kind of toilet paper
double-roll with aloe
that’s the great part about having another drunk as a roommate
always good toilet paper

I call in
to file for more unemployment
cook brussel sprouts
check baseball trades
and crack an Old Style

I’ll get a job when I have to start using the store brand

that’s about the only literary advice I can give

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

My Family

We’re at a Cuban restaurant on North Avenue
my mom is staring at the plantains and commenting
on how much they look like little potato pancakes
and my dad is telling the owner why she needs to charge
a corkage fee so he can bring his own wine
and my brother’s telling me I need to clean my glasses
and we get into an argument about the Hawaiian Punch guy
and my family’s laughing at me cus I remembered him
having antlers on his head and my dad goes “no it was a
porkpie hat” and then my mom and dad start complaining about
my brother needing to find an apartment on campus in
time “I’m gonna say this once and then let it go…”
which my dad says with everything he complains about
repeatedly and then my mom starts in on how she
can’t believe my aunt and uncle took a trip to
Tokyo for a friend’s wedding my aunt and uncle
who have a mansion in Glenview and another somewhere
in Colorado and my dad says “because they can”
and my mom says “but I just don’t get it. I would
never go to an employee’s wedding in Tokyo” and my
dad says “well they’re friends” and my mom goes
“well I still don’t get it” and my dad goes “well I
guess that’s just one of life’s great mysteries”
but my mom says she still doesn’t get it
and my dad closes his eyes and breathes deeply
and we go and my mom makes my brother
straighten the blinds each one individually so they’re
all perfectly even and I ask “why is she making you
do that?” and my brother goes “because she’s fucking crazy”
and my dad makes my brother and I haul a hundred-pound
disassembled wine rack downstairs and he’s too tired to
take me home so my brother takes me home and we talk
the whole ride there about poker and getting laid
in college and he drops me off I go in crack open
a bottle of whiskey take a stiff shot and write this poem

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Noble Square

Latinas w/ their baby carriages

and the birds chirping
like assholes

at the end of this cigar

as the sun goes down

w/ balls the size
of cantaloupes

and pigeons
chasing each other

past a dirty American flag

and the cops chasing
the thundering engines

of souped-up
shitty cars

as the sun goes down

in a boring war

in every steeple
and dog

in every broken piece of furniture
ice cream truck
and river rat gnawing at wire

we’ll die

the same deaths
as all these things

not having won
not having lost

but having a cigar

while the birds chirp
like assholes

in Noble Square

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Poetry and Poker

While smokestacks fart in Hammond, Indiana

a gambler gets busted on the nut flush

Looking at my typewriter
with dust-bunnies in its crevices
a busted M key
a missing =+ key
she’s been good to me

so I try anyway

it’ll get me more broke than laid

He buys in for another hand

be good to me he begs

while the old black men in fedoras
the Chinese ATMs
the old Jewish pros
the Italian contractors

people from all over the map

wait for their table

The good ones know

you gotta wait for it

The bad ones
force it

and get something like this

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Constipated in Gobles, Michigan

I was constipated for more than a week
and I figured if anything was going to cure it
it would be Gobles, Michigan

so I took the Outlaw Bible of American Poetry to my parents’ country washroom

and read pretentious beats
dull surrealists
and whiney NY punks

hoping that would get my bowels going

still nothing

so I looked out the window
at the flowers
and the dragonflies
and the trees
and tried
some sort of know-nothing
Zen will
on the Hot Pocket
from last Sunday

just farts and “outlaw” poetry

finally giving up and accepting my fate

to be one of many poets to have died filled with his own shit

I dog-eared Corso

and called it a day

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Whatever it Means

At night
I lay awake
staring at the faded plastic star on my ceiling
that gives the illusion of night
left by the people
that lived here before me
I think they were neo-hippies
and one of them owed child support

sometimes I think of wars throughout history
sometimes of women that passed me at work
or my neighbor, Dave
an obnoxious guy
but a good soul
in his basement apartment
lonesome
eating macaroni
his girlfriend dying of M.S.
in Grand Rapids

and sometimes
it keeps me up

and sometimes
I fall asleep fast

and then
there’re those nights
where I drink scotch
to the sound of the space heater

those nights
where I could care less
about the people on the street

and Dave is making desperate calls to her on the phone
while his cat shits in the bathtub

those nights come
a little closer
to whatever it means

and they don’t come
often enough

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

A Short Political Poem

Our enemies
are pigeons
mosquitos
spinach
and Mexicans

We will build a fence
700 miles long

and line it w/ nukes
and spinach detectors

so when the Mexicans come

w/ their flamethrowers and guns

shooting mosquitos at us
and sending pigeons into the air

they’ll know that we stand strong

as one nation

under a God

who rings my bell
and leaves pamphlets
under my door
at 9:30 in the morning

that tell me

this country’s going to hell

because God

is one very clever Mexican

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

The Girl at the Hollywood Grill at 6 A.M.

She said
she was from Munster, Indiana

and people don’t treat
each other
like this
in Munster, Indiana

and
it was her 21st birthday

how could we

and I
wanted to tell her
about the powder blue
stuffed dog
I found
laying dead
and dirty
in the middle
of the subway tracks

and my weeks
of not eating

but Steve
just gave her
his finished plate
and said
“Happy Birthday.”

that poor girl
from the Midwest

drunk

in Chicago

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

The Little Things

After a long day at the museum
kids screaming in my ear and the hot piss smell
of the 3-D theatre washroom wafting into my ticket post
I sit on my bed with nothing on but a pair of jeans
take a good drink of an ice cold Coke in front of my old
trusty AC set to 67 while outside it’s 85 degrees
and the murder rate goes up for lack of anything better to do
in the dumbfuck streets and girls in sundresses breeze past
whooping drunks and the cop cars slow down at every Mexican
and the stand on Ashland/Division sells elotes to emaciated
bike messengers and it’s times like this
when you have a second wind and you could care less about pussy
and the stock market and sleep and the tornadoes touch down
in Dalton Illinois and the gunrunners run
and the TV and the radio and the teacher all talk about nothing
and the war is good at times like this
in the dumbfuck streets
they murder each other over nothing
as you lay back
and chew on the ice

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

How to Live on 20 Dollars a Week

I’ve stopped keeping track of my finances

I’ll know I’m fucked if I get a letter from the gas company

They’ve cut back on my work hours

and I’m 90% sure my bank account’s overdrawn

so I’ve been doing nothing but eating bread and beans
and watching the blonde joggers w/ big asses

a delicious cup of three-dollar vacuum-packed faux-Cuban coffee (about a pound)
and I feel sorry for the people that don’t know the pleasures in being broke

My mom worries and tries to set me up

Jewish
Italian
it doesn’t matter

I tell her not to
she nods and does it anyway

Sprouts are good
just 1 dollar for a pound

Borscht too
50 cents for a baseball-sized beet
1.50 for the loaf of bread to dip it in

Beans especially
80 cents a can
1 dollar for tortillas

Meat
¼ pound thin cheap steak strips for 1.30

A man can eat well on 20 dollars a week if he applies himself

I watch the Mexican father
(of at least two I’ve seen)
across the way
lean his arm out the window of his modest brick home
about the size of two garages
he’s holding a cigarette
he is tired
as most Mexicans are
since we make them do all the work
and then complain about it

it is a beautiful day
he doesn’t give a shit about the sun

a good porterhouse crosses my mind

but I will finely dice my steak strips
add them to my brown beans
and use one slice of sourdough for dipping

and I will forget about it

like I’ll forget about the blonde joggers w/ big asses

even though I want them
like I want a steak

His cigarette’s finished
he closes the window

it’s time for his dinner too

and we both feel sorry
for the people that don’t know the pleasures in being broke

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

In Defense of Bob Howry

Bob Howry got roughed up again last night

4 earned runs
no outs

and they booed him mercilessly

they cracked their peanuts and drank their beer
and booed him

and he hung his head and took that long walk to the dugout

that cliché 5.50 e.r.a. in mid-September walk to the dugout
that’s better than all the poets’ faux-empathy for the dead in East-Timor

I didn’t boo

Bob Howry is a placement pitcher

he has one good pitch
a fastball

when he’s on
he’s painting the corners at 95

when he’s off
it’s 91 over the middle

Bob Howry knew this

and 4 people out of 38,000 knew this

and they didn’t boo

I call these people poets

and the other 37,996 are just people that write

that’s baseball

that’s poetry

I prefer Bob Howry

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Kelly

In the morning
when we pop acetaminophen
and kiss
over the glass
of stolen cars
like crystal hail

and cockroaches
hump in the park

Puerto Rican gangbangers
light off fireworks
on the corner

and dream of a gentle God

and I stare
at your polka-dot underwear

and pale thighs

and am happy w/ Irish girls

because
they’ll steal three more cars
on Blackhawk Ave.

tomorrow night

and the cockroaches
will always find each other
through the concrete cracks

and we’ll grow tired of each other

and become dust
under condominiums

where couples will kiss

‘til the factories of Chicago
end up in the sea

Kelly
it’s just good
to split a bottle
of really crappy Canadian whiskey
w/ you

Saturday night

after the Buzzcocks show

in the scriptures
of some gentle God

on Greenview
and Blackhawk Ave.

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Customer Service

I saw this lady
in aisle 19
and asked her
if she was finding everything
alright
and she said sort of
and I said
well that’s half the fun
isn’t it
and she laughed
a customer’s laugh
and my bosses looked at me
and smiled
and it made me feel good
like I had done my job
and then I felt
unimaginable terror
I need some sleep
I thought
as she took her gin to the register
we all
need some sleep
as my bosses smiled
worse than the addict in the street
or a bad game show
at every hardware store
kitchen appliance store
bodega
worse
than any war
and that’s
half the fun
isn’t it

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

I'm Changing Bartenders

I guess you were looking for a poet
who quoted Strindberg and Shakespeare

and were probably pretty disappointed
when you saw me on my eighth PBR
watching the White Sox/Astros World Series game
and swearing under my breath

I guess you thought of classical music
and men w/ five o’ clock shadows and peacoats

and were probably pretty disappointed
when you saw me in an Eddie Bauer jacket
swearing at the pitcher and burping

and I’d like to think
when I got up to pee
for the fourth time
in one hour

you told yourself
you’d keep looking

but I am a poet
like you’re a bartender

this is the best drink I’ve got
and that is really really sad

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Unemployment

I’m applying to jobs everyday
bullshit applications
just so I can collect a government check

one was to Wal-Mart
and another was to a Red Lobster in the ghetto

People suggest things to me

I should be an editor

or a barista

Starbucks they tell me
has great benefits

but I’d much rather play internet poker
in cum-stained lounging sweats

thinking of creative ways
to pay for my health insurance

because it’s eight degrees outside

and every job is the same

I apply to a hardware store
and a shitty Contemporary American restaurant chain
where they call the bosses “coaches”
and the hourly employees “champs”

and if any of these employers
calls me back

I’ll tell them

I’m in the middle of a hand

and hang up

and it’ll be

our little secret

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Another Day on the Job

I close my eyes

Scarlett Johansson’s giving me a back rub

and the St. Louis Cardinals are all dead

I open them

a gentleman wants to know how to get the plastic off the top of his tequila bottle

He is very large

I tell him he should rip it

this is the correct answer
and it makes him angry

I close my eyes

I’ve got my best suit on

people are buying me tickets to France for some reason

I go
and fall in love w/ a cognac distiller’s daughter
or Audrey Tautou

we make love
wet from the rain
and skinny dipping in the river of the louvre

I open them

my balls are huge
and there’s 9 stolen liters of Johnnie Walker Black today

a gentleman is screaming about salami to the customer service desk

he is a 50-year-old trust fund kid

they let him out of the mental institution on weekends

I close my eyes

I’m playing 7-card Stud with John Coltrane

We finish and have a steak

then Scarlett Johansson shows up and gives us a back rub

I open my eyes

I am writing this on the toilet

I am not a romantic

I close them

the war is over

we lost

and people are having gasoline orgies

I open my eyes

That drunk couple’s back again

they’re giggling at the sakes

Jesus christ

go home

I close them

You’re waiting in a sundress

I tell you the problem

you tell me the answer

I don’t remember the words

but I remember you look good

I open my eyes

it’s 9 o’ clock

I punch out

go home

close them

and go to sleep

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Day Job

Drinking cheap faux-Cuban coffee
trying to stay awake for my new job
at the Museum of Science and Industry

I’m overdrawn $90 on my bank account
which for a poet
is pretty good

There’s a private hell on every face on the train at 7 a.m.
single Latina mothers on their way to the Cinnabon stand
lonely old men with permanent hard-ons leaving the peepshow
day runners with giant headphones listening to Herbie Hancock
or Carlos Santana or books on tape and me going to my first day
at the museum and all we know is that we all hate this

They’ll show me how to take tickets today
while families share popsicles quickly
and dads line their baby carriages up
in neat rows and when the last weird European with a backpack
makes his way into the 3:45 showing of Dinos Alive!
I’ll try to figure it out for us

if you try to
while the fat kid brings his danish back
or the microchip company bottoms out
or you unsuccessfully try for sleep
another night of mopping up sperm

and we’ll meet back on the train tomorrow
at 7 a.m.
silently exchanging notes

like a book club
that can’t escape
the worst novel ever written

like a study group
without funds

Tomorrow
they’re going to show me how to operate the flight simulator

and if there’s time
make announcements

and I’ll nod
and smile my way
right past zero

until I make rent

if you try to
while the war veteran complains about his cruller
or the microchip company gets bought out by another microchip company
or you get two hours of sweaty sleep
blown out pussies and dicks in your dreams

but hey

it’s a living

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

8:54 A.M.

Insomnia’s back again
talking heads talking war and cholesterol

people smile over Sanka
get the Accuweather Entertainment Weekly a bagel

Tekrit goes boom
and they laugh
at Marmaduke

Quick check of the horoscope

a quick shit

the burning of Rome

she forgot to fill the tank with gas

good morning assholes

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Racial Harmony

It was Thursday
hot
with nothing to do
so I took a cup of iced coffee onto the porch
and sat down to read
or I should say re-read
some Ferlinghetti
getting about three pages into it
before remembering why
I didn’t like Ferlinghetti
when I heard a yell
and a gentle screech
and looked down to see a fat Mexican
getting out of a plumbing van
a black homeless guy coming towards him
saying “You almost hit him!”
and in front of the van was an elderly homeless white guy
asleep in front of a recycling can in the alley
“You almost hit him!” the black guy said
“He shouldn’t have been sleeping in the middle of the alley!”
the fat Mexican said
and the elderly white bum just slept
the black bum saying you almost hit him
the fat Mexican saying he shouldn’t have been sleeping there
and the white bum sleeping there in front of the recycling can
till finally the black bum left only to turn around
and head back towards the fat Mexican plumber who was entering his gate
and apologetically say “You probably didn’t see him”
“No I didn’t” said the Mexican
and that was that
the fat Mexican went home
the black bum left
and the white bum slept
and Ferlinghetti was still terrible
and the old white bum slept
for another five minutes
got up
puked
took a piss
and sat back down
till another neighbor came by and said
“You should go”
so the old guy walked down the alley
to the next one
and the other neighbor
took his groceries in
and fixed a sandwich
and just then
another neighbor came out
to water her daffodils or posies or some flower
humming a sunny song
on a sunny day
for all of us

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

To a Woman

I

We’ll drive a Volvo
to Buckingham Fountain

drink rose
and eat cheese made by monks
that killed themselves over 200 years ago

while dogs bark
and your nipples soften

There will be fireworks
for some reason

mostly bottle rockets
kids are launching at us

I will read Donne

and you will say
who’s Donne?
and give me a relationship quiz

I will get a 95
and masturbate later that night
feeling proud that we were so compatible

II

I will wait two days
and then call you

I will leave a message
and make my voice sound deep
like a 95

It will involve me laughing nervously
and talking about deep-dish pizza

It will last three minutes

half-way through
I will forget to keep my voice deep
and sound like a nasally Jew

I will analyze the message in my head
over and over

I will get three new gray hairs

You will drink mojitos

and masturbate
later that night
thinking of Skeet Ulrich
for some reason

III

Five days pass
and I will erase your number from my phone

You will decide to try myspace
and meet a fifth-level Palladin warlord

he will beat my score
and ask you to move into his studio in Pilsen

You will make wine together

and smoke Camel wide-filters

You will have a cat named Charlie Parker

and a dog named Shit-head

and life will be grand

in a point system

out of 500

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

New Employee Orientation or How I Came to Hate the Name Heather

The meeting for new employees was in the Columbian Room of the Museum of Science and Industry

A sexless conference area that would make the perfect place for a clerk or receptionists suicide

Tapioca walls and a dirty brown floral carpet

There was coffee and it counted as work
so even after staying up all night drinking Evan Williams
and watching a Chapelle’s Show marathon I went

I was the only one from the Omnimax theatre section of the museum
my usual crowd of cynical college kids and single moms and dads that had it tough but still smiled

The crowd for the orientation was comprised almost entirely of members of the facilitators section which meant they were all bad actors and closet-sized theatre directors that needed a day job

There is nothing worse on this planet than being hung-over and stuck in a conference room full of actors

The overflamboyant noise did not mix well with the sterile atmosphere and it made my headache worse

The speakers took turns talking about payroll and fire-exit safety as if the Gods were listening

after four hours of presentations
it was time for the scavenger hunt

we divided up into groups and were all given packets with 25 fill-in-the-blank questions dealing with the museum exhibits

First one back with all the questions answered got a food voucher good for one cafeteria meal

As my group walked by the El exhibit I had visions of throwing myself on the tracks and being run over by a ghost train

Two women led the group

one was a petite blonde very pretty with a gorgeous ass that looked like it never saw the mattress as she slept and was methodically paraffin waxed every morning

she had short hair and ran ahead with the other girl
an obnoxious redhead who you could tell took everything about acting seriously except the talent part and had visions of that room temperature spaghetti already in her head

I suspected the blonde was just feigning interest as an excuse to stay ahead of the rest of the group as she was creeped out (and rightfully so) by the haggard looking Jew with a five o’ clock shadow the quiet fat guy and the effeminate black guy in a lab coat following her

the ladies shouted out the answers and I pretended to write them down
not wanting to be blamed for costing us our cafeteria coupons

When we returned we had lost by a long shot
and as the actors talked I played cell-phone poker

six hours later and we were barely half-way through the presenters

I got up to go to the washroom and when I came back I could hear maniacal laughter and crying as I approached the conference room door

I opened the door
and it was group activity w/ Heather
Heather was the kind of person that assumed talking loud and being overzealous passed as entertainment simply because it worked on people that went to see Indiana rowboat shows and took their kids to the Dells

while everyone was in a circle role-playing I inched over to the table where I hung my head and tried to remain unnoticed

then Heather led the gang back to the table where she pointed at a screen and yelled some more

after a few minutes of Heather’s blonde amphetamine frenzy she asked everyone to get back up and move back into a circle

one kid finally snapped and threw his glasses against the table

three others moaned

this was more than seven hours later
I had had enough

I asked the HR person leading the group and who’d had enough too if I could go I had a train to catch

he instantly knew that I was full of shit smiled and said yes you can

I hiked out of the conference room and up the stairs
Heather being Heather echoing in the distance

on my way to the train stop I saw the same old disheveled and hunch-backed homeless black guy I see on Cornell and 57th everyday

he looked like he wasn’t getting any change

we would both need some hair of the dog that night

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

For Jill

I would fake a Portuguese accent for you

study wine

and grow a vagina on my soul

I would pretend stories about Scotland Yard were interesting

and watch less TV

I would move to Delaware

or eastern Delaware

or give Somalian food another shot

give up baseball
but not Ron Santo

go to church
and not laugh

go to temple
and not sleep

eat salads
and masturbate less

stop drinking beer
and shave

get my Master’s in Botanical Science

just to kill time

and one night

when we went out

to a fancy dinner

of lobster bisque
and risotto
not a french dip
from Arby’s

I’d propose to you

w/ a ring in a champagne glass

and it would make a grand commercial

or Tom Hanks movie

but in reality

I’m too scared to even talk to you

and you’re a lesbian

so this bag of Cheetos is for you

© 2008 Lee Kitzis