Poem Written While Driving to the State Fair on my Wife's Birthday

You told me to watch for deer

but all I wanna do is watch you

 

How is it

after 16 years

you look the way you do

and I look like the tail pipe

of a busted Dodge Charger

on a small township U.P. lawn

 

We went from Parliament Lights at 1 AM

to having a kid to

keeping a food diary and calling it a night at 9

cus the opening act took too long to

get on the stage 

and the apps made our tummies hurt

 

and we'll go further down that road

looking out for deer

and turkeys as dumb as the day is long

till I look like the Crypt Keeper 

and you look like my nurse 

and we crash

because

I just can't stop lookin'

and writing this for you

 

© 2025 Lee Kitzis 

 

Cecilia

Shrooms were good 

hash too

I thought I was a sage on the Atlantic City boardwalk

at the age of 16

but then

but then I went and got older

I went and had a daughter

and one day I held her hand

as I always do

when we cross the street

and when we got to the other side

I loosened 

as I always do

when we get to the other side

but on this particular day

she kept holding mine

that small and clammy little hand

I was no wise man

I was a dad

 

and when the other dads ask me 

if I'll show the first guy she brings home

my gun collection 

and laugh

I laugh too 

cus they don't know

I'm going to make you the gun collection

Cecilia

I'm gonna make you the flower

that grows

when they want plastic grass

 

cus there's beauty in that love

that violence

that little clammy hand

wrapped around my knife callous 

as we get ourselves a crepe

and some Pokemon cards

and maybe play Dragons at the park

© 2024 Lee Kitzis 

 

 

 

 

I am 42

 All my favorite baseball players

are fat and dead

 

I wish I could apologize to the girlfriends I had at 19

 

I tasted like cigarettes and didn't know where the clitoris was

 

I still don't entirely

 

But age has taught me to try

 

I have a vague idea

like remembering an AOL password

or the name of that restaurant in Spain we went to

the second day of our honeymoon

 

I have a wonderful wife, I have a wonderful daughter, 

I want for nothing but scotch I can't afford

 

No TV studio would buy my story

 

I asked the doctor if I can continue eating out of a trash can

 

He said no and recommended 5 ounces of notebook paper

and 20 gallons of water a day

 

If you season it right it's fine

I lied

it isn't

 

Sometimes I eat cold pizza after 11pm

I convince myself it's a smaller piece when I record the calories

don't tell Doctor Stevens

 

The other day I made a Seinfeld reference 

to the 21-year-old cashier at the liquor store

she stared at me blankly 

 

I've still got that edge baby

 

© 2023 Lee Kitzis 

 

Our Song

10 years ago
we slow danced to “our song”
because you and I
were supposed to
you looked gorgeous
I looked passable
it was Billie Holiday
neither of us remember
what the song was
just that we were the only ones that danced
the entire time
as people watched and smiled
it was a minute-and-a-half
we picked it because it was the shortest
and you kept asking “is it over?”
and I kept saying “soon sweetie”
and it was you and I
and 100 people that drank the wine
and didn’t touch the beer
and it was awkward and exhilarating  

10 years later
none of that matters
as we slow dance in our kitchen
to a song we don’t even know to begin with
that could go on forever for all we care
covered in flour
our hands up
and clasped the same
a little girl in the middle
and it’s you and I and her
and it’s our song
in an empty room
and we’re still the only ones dancing
for ten more years
and ten years after that

© 2021 Lee Kitzis

For George Floyd

They knelt on the fruit
until it bled a nightmarish jazz
into the concrete
like Ornette Coleman’s dying cat
then used the pulp
to line the stripes and the juice
to spray the stars and wrapped
the poor in it ‘til they couldn’t breathe
suffocating at half mast
cocooned in medicine they could not afford
skewered by the needles they would never see
and told those watching it was the Mexicans
and told them it was the blacks
and told them it was the Chinese
and told them it was the whites
just some of them the ones that paint
and have Pintrest accounts and
smoke better weed and when
they couldn’t see them
they believed them
and then they wrapped that flag tight
even tighter this time
while the invisible screamed
“I can’t breathe!” inside
and w/ the strength of a million
cleanly pleated god fearing knees
they knelt on the fruit again

© 2020 Lee Kitzis

The Sickies

I tell you
we can’t go to the museum
cus everyone has “the sickies”

so we pile
in the car
and head to the beach
to collect rocks
intrepid archeologists
in 30 degree weather

You load my pockets
and yell at me
when I skip a few of our finds
into Lake Superior
and pretend you’re an airplane
while your mother smiles
at the crashing waves
and daydreams of Obama
and going out for boulevardiers
and charcuterie plates

on the ride home
I hold in my pee
(the bathrooms at the beach were closed cus of the sickies)
we listen to the Frozen soundtrack
and discuss dinner
maybe tacos maybe chicken tenders maybe both
as we ride past the houses lined with rainbows
out of the end
and into the beginning

© 2020 Lee Kitzis

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

Motherfucker (A Poem)

Motherfuckers
don’t know
they’re motherfuckers
that’s why
they’re motherfuckers

A few
are lucky enough
to look in the mirror
at their motherfuckin’ face
and go my god
what have I motherfuckin’ done?
I’ve been a motherfucker
this whole time

but most
go on bein’ motherfuckers

Some stay small
bein’ motherfuckers in customer service lines
a fistful of expired coupons for another store

Some rise to the heights of motherfuckery
and become president of the motherfuckers
MFOTUS

There are motherfuckers in Brazil
There are motherfuckers in the states
There are motherfuckers in France eating pasteurized cheese

There are Yanomami motherfuckers
There are Inuit motherfuckers
There are motherfuckers in lost tribes in the Kalahari
they send out for water and that come back with a handful
of rocks someone told them they were magical
and could produce water and the elders the women
the children the camels all go

This motherfucker

You see
a motherfucker isn’t a swear word

It’s a state of mind

It sets off fireworks at 3 AM in December

It doesn’t wipe the stationary bike at the gym down
when it’s done with it

It blames Mexicans instead of banks

It cages children

It steals from charity

It’s in the White House

eatin’ a cheeseburger
in a tanning bed

like a little bitch

© 2019 Lee Kitzis

Haiku for my Daughter

Go the fuck to sleep
Please wake up I miss you so
Go the fuck to sleep

© 2017 Lee Kitzis

A Promise to My Daughter in the Wake of a Trump Presidency

We trudge through the snow
me in my pea coat
you in your pink snow suit
two months too big

I show you the garden
the celery is dying
and I promise you it will begin anew

as for everything else
I do not know

You are just grasping the fall colors
of a country
which is beautiful
and ill and tired

I can only explain the leaves

nothing else
just the colors
that will begin anew

I’ve failed you

We’ve failed you

but I will be the hammer for you

I will be the tornado

like a fighter past his prime

until we take our last walk

and look at the celery
and look at the leaves

and we will have our silence
as loud as thunder
as we breathe the air
and continue on

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

New Book!

Sheeeeee's Heeeeeerrreee!

The new book of poetry from Lee Kitzis! That's me!

No more readin' poems on the computer for you! You're reading poems on paper! Like the professor of a fancy college! Or a college drop-out with a book! Whichever!

Coming Soon...

For Mingus the Cat

We were united in our mutual weirdness

co-conspirators
writing partners

If you were a person
you’d be an installation artist
who wore nothing but Hawaiian shirts
and drank Night Train
out of a bowler cap

You saw the street
You saw the good life

You cared nothing for either
and took it to your death rattle

I would’ve traded a city block for you

but that’s not how life works

so
I do the next best thing
and leave the door to the attic open
when I write

like Jews
leave the front door open
for Elijah

in the hopes that you’ll wander up
and perch your dirty asshole on the railing
like old times

and watch me chug black coffee

and write through dirty glasses

swearing at stanza after stanza

missing you

I know it’s weird
I know it makes no sense

but humans never do

like the street
like the good life

like an empty attic
and some silly lines

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

Everything Smells Like Breast Milk (A Poem on Fatherhood)

My wife’s kisses smell like breast milk

The baby’s head smells like breast milk

The plants smell like breast milk

The cats smell like breast milk

The mailman smells like breast milk

The sidewalk and the stoplights and the streets and the birds

The reverend and the rabbi and the bums and the stoners
and the fresh air at the beach

Titty milk
Titty milk
Titty milk

My receipt for creamer smells like breast milk

The cop writing a ticket smells like breast milk

The cage fighter smells like breast milk

My typewriter smells like breast milk

This poem smells like breast milk

Titty milk
Titty milk
Titty milk

12 AM
2 AM
5 AM

I’ll shout it from the top of a mountain

down below to the U.P.

Where the woman I love pumps away

and waits for me

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

Cecilia

You came into this world
screaming
with the back hair
of a 50-year-old Greek man

The greatest day of my life
punctuating the worst 4 days of my life

exhausted
in love
I held you to my chest
I kissed your head
you ate some of my chest hair

and that was it
I was hooked

I would console your screams

I would wipe your ass

I would chase away the boys
or the girls

I would find your lost scrunchy

I would buy you all the pretty things

withdrawing cash
and not charging it to the card

a technique daddy learned
to conceal his junk food and
lottery ticket purchases
from mommy

and we’d stick
that silly pretty thing
way down deep
in the daddy/daughter secret vault

and catch a Cubs game

and you’d have your favorite players

and mine would be dead or managers

and it will be ours

the whole thing

and nobody else’s

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

Since I've Moved to the UP

Since I’ve moved to the UP
my beard has gotten bigger

I’ve had an oven explode in my face
and I drink beer in the attic for next to no reason

I’ve calmed down
and learned to be friendly

When I walk I smell spruce and backyard barbecues

The meth-heads are less violent than the crackheads
but far weirder

There are no gangs because the bears control everything

The food culture is a vegan craving a steak
and the buildings are old and beautiful
and all the transients look like trappers
and the beer is good and a bum can live
like a king on cans and I’m in love
with the big red lighthouse and the fog horns
that carry me into slightly restless dreams

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

The Day an Oven Exploded in My Face or Sunday Funday

I was nearing the end of my shift
and just had to get the fluffed garlic potatoes
out as an accompaniment
to the whole roasted chicken

I took a look in the bottom oven
and before I could assess my potato situation
there was a BANG! that crumpled me
hat and glasses flying singed hair
blood gushing from my head

I thought of my wife and my unborn kid
and what’s that burning smell oh it’s me
that’s not good lemmee just go ahead
and feel the top of my head oh fuck me
no bueno it’s hospital time
don’t let this be my obit
barely published poet dies
after oven explodes in his face

but it wasn’t my time
and the doctor was nice and quick with the stitches
and flirted with me a little and my wife
held back the tears and then calmed down and said
“maybe now I can beat you at Scrabble”

and I know what matters now
I know

I love my wife
and I love my kid

and those potatoes
those potatoes

those potatoes needed 3 more minutes

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

Poem for a Songbird I Knew for a Few Hours

We found you
outside the public library
busted wing and all
afraid
a big black dog
in an SUV
staring at you
licking its chops

My wife
her heart as huge
as the Upper Peninsula
cupped you in her hands
and we took you home
and spoke to you
and gave you a cage
and a clean towel
and a water dish
and seed

and my wife
could not name you
it would just hurt
too much
so I did

Kingston
and it hurt to do it
but I did

and I talked
into your inquisitive black eyes
I told you that I loved you
and would be right back
and we would talk some more

and then I left
and went to a birthing class
and watched videos
of the bloody sloppy
miracle of life
and we grimaced
my wife and I
and we talked
about babies
and we talked
about birds

I would put you
in the attic
and we would sit in silence
and watch the big black dogs
pass us by

Me with my Old Crow
and you with your seed

but that would never happen

I guess it wasn’t supposed to

Kingston
I’d like to think
you were happy
not getting stepped on
or eaten by a hawk

Just curling up next to a water dish
and letting go

Many people don’t let go

They mean nothing to me

but you

you meant it all

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

A Horse Named Jenny

Oh wow
Look at that
you said

and I turned around
and there was an old lady
counting her change at
the counter
basset puppies
and paw prints
stitched all over
the back of her jacket

Birthday present idea
I said

you laughed

I’m not kidding
I said

I’ll wear the fuck out of that

we sat
for a couple minutes
eating our sugar cookie
covered in confetti sprinkles
and a graphic amount of frosting

28 cents, 29 cents, 30…
the old lady went

I don’t ever want you to die
you said

Sweetie, you’re stuck with me

you stuck your finger
into the cookie crumbs
and held it

Good you said

The old lady walked
out the door

bread in hand
her daughter waiting
in a station wagon

their front plate
was a personalized portrait
of a horse named Jenny

you told me you didn’t wanna end up
like that lady

memories of me
and a basset hound jacket

the car started

she took a Viking pull
off her fresh loaf
and left a giant piece of bread
hanging out of her mouth

she held it there
and looked straight at us

we laughed

the car drove off

Okay
maybe I wanna be a little like her
you said

I thought as much
I said

I finished my weak coffee

You bused your clean plate

and we left the bakery

and walked to the lake

as if the whole thing
had never happened

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

The Unpronounceable God

We look out
over the calm expanse
of Lake Superior
by the old light house
bleeding red

imagining
what the Native Americans
must have imagined
about
some crazy water god
with 10 syllables in his name
breaking the tide
with 300-year-old breath

our daughter
in your belly
using your bladder
as a beanbag

and the silence is fine

and you are beautiful

with your one gray hair
we both know you have
but don’t mention
and you hate
and I love

and we wait
for that unpronounceable god
to break the tide

and when he does
you turn to me
look into my eyes
smile and say

“I bet bear farts smell awful.”

“Absolutely,” I say

and we hold hands and
walk home

past the old houses

and the big breed dogs

© 2016 Lee Kitzis