As I Carry My Kid to Bed and Think of Dead Friends

I used to pick you up
and carry you to bed

Now I hoist you
your long toddler legs
dragging across the sheets
your curls in my face
they smell like a daughter's head
dirt and imagination
the opposite of the world we live in

The bad old days
the salad days are gone
my friends are dying
drinking scotch
listening to the Pogues
in a soccer hooligan bar
beyond thought and matter

I social distance
from the moon I used to howl at
stop at one glass of wine
and switch to tea

what a fucking dad I've become

I will not leave it like this for you
Cecilia

We will have the president
that unites this country
gay, compassionate, shoots missiles
from his eyes, is also a she,
plays third base w/ a good slash line,
hits for power, a communist in a
Gucci belt w/ the head of Merle Haggard,
knows 12 languages, fluent in
America, the art of love, diplomacy,
and Star Trek bar trivia

I lay you in your bed
cover you with your Paw Patrol stuffies:
Chase, Skye, Carl, Slippery Jean,
green helmet guy, something something

What a fucking dad I've become

Goodnight, Cecilia

Dream those dreams
of dirt and imagination

and goodnight, Cal

who's now the dream

drunk on Laphroaig

as well dressed as they come

© 2020 Lee Kitzis

Linus or Edith

The ultrasound
jostled you awake
like an old man
asleep on a bus
that hit the brakes

and I saw your heart flicker
and this thing between my legs
that was the master
of some many questionable decisions
in my early 20s
had done something
I did not question
in my early 30s

and wow I thought
and holy fuck and wow again

and I let out something
between a laugh and a cry

I loved the way it felt

but did not like
the way it sounded

I sounded like I had snapped
circus music in my head
a future wearing jorts to funerals
and running for president
as a Libertarian bowl
of cottage cheese

but my wife
just grabbed my arm

her eyes lit up

she loved the music

if it were up to her
it would never stop

wow I thought
we’re both fucking crazy

that makes me feel a little better

and we watched you
settle back in

little Linus or Edith

and holy fuck and wow again

© 2015 Lee Kitzis

Poem Written After Smoking a Strong Italian Cigar Too Fast

i took a rocket to the moon
and ended up in gary, indiana

while the homicides homicided

and the poets poeted

bill kurtis read bedtime stories to the president

while jesus snuck out the backdoor

hauled ass to canada
to get his ulcer checked out

i took a rocket to the moon
and ended up tossing ice into a denny’s urinal
at 2:03 a.m.
thankful for work

i took a rocket to the moon

and ended up on the moon

and it was nice

there were no poets

or homicides

just jesus

hiding behind a rock

“that guy scares the shit out of me” he said

“plus it’s a little cold”

i agreed

then the earth blew up
in the name of god

and i poeted this poem about it

© 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