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

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