27 Going on 50

I’m 27 years old and I’ve accumulated far too many gray hairs

I’m afraid of everything
women
power lines
flights to Cincinnati
kabuki masks
gentiles
tornadoes
centipedes
bicyclists
police sketches
spinach
the elderly

I tried Buddhism
but couldn’t breathe right

I overanalyze my relaxation tapes

I don’t trust my bank

or anybody in rush-hour

I mix my salads with scotch
and my tacos with tea

27 going on 50

and I haven’t even lived like Bukowski

just a Jew
whose grandfather took him to a Baptist-Evangelist church
at age 9
and confused the shit out of him

and now he’s an Atheist

at 27 going on 50

looking back at 9
and forward to a good drink

to forget it all

© 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