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

For Erik and Courtney

I once called you the worst Buddhist ever

and I meant it
in the best possible way

it’s Thanksgiving
and I’m working

surrounded by weird Europeans Koreans the suicidal
Gary, Indiana’s finest drive-in accidents in Wal-Mart jeans

thinking of your limitless compassion

and being thankful for that

and Courtney’s limitless patience

which you should be thankful for

because there are not many girls

that would see a 6-ft-6 Danish Buddhist

w/ nothing on
but a dirty bathrobe
and a beer in hand

and stick around

but w/ Jesus in her heart
and a couple screwdrivers
she did

for 3 years

and then she married you

so this Thanksgiving

I say hallelujah for you Courtney

and hallelujah for you Erik

and hallelujah for you Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Todd
whatever your name is

you work in mysterious ways

© 2009 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.

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

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

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

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