Change of Seasons

There's a girl downstairs
she plants flowers everywhere
they line her porch
red purple yellow

my roommate and I
have a brick a shovel and three whiskey bottles
filled with cigarette butts

when her flowers die
in the winter

we'll still have
our brick and our shovel

only this time
we'll have four whiskey bottles
filled with cigarette butts

even though
her porch will be empty
it'll still look nicer

She's the prettiest girl I've seen
in a long time

© 2009 Lee Kitzis

Little Hells

Big-thighed Latinas riding by on bicycles
as the loud mariachi music blares out of beat-up tanks of cars
and it is Noble Square Mexican-town and it is a great thing
in the cool late spring night air of Chicago

I take a sip off my Evan Williams
and forget about my overdrawn bank account constipation
lack of love brain wired in a skull going straight to Jewish hell
waiting for my roommate to stumble home with his usual drunk
from his usual bar so I can borrow ten dollars from him

I can’t complain too much
I’ve got a low-paying but good job in a museum
for every little shit I see there’s a glorious smiling little tyke
whose parents actually give a damn
and who wants to see every dinosaur possible within that day
and there is no shortage of gorgeous black women
working the ticket booth with me

but still some of it’s hell
some of it needs to be hell
it keeps us on our toes

lest we become smiling Danish couples
happy with everything on the menu
or freckled moms in shirts with advertisements
and Umbro shorts with 700 kids
reading terrible romantic literature in a Panera Bread window

but not me
I’m halfway between
and that’s the best I can hope for
while my ice melts
and the whiskey tastes weak

Little hells
to keep us on our toes

I shouldn’t have that big-thighed Latina riding by on her bicycle

None of us should

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

I've Always (for Julie)

I’ve always sympathized more
with the street sweepers
and the old men in Jewel
feeling up the tangelos

riding the brown line
back from the locksmith
with a can of Spaghettios
in my left pocket
and a whiskey hangover

I’ve always been a hair away
from being the cab driver
in the porn store
at 3 A.M.
on Thanksgiving

or the guy
who thinks there’s money
in real estate

and I always will be

because
that’s pretty much
what a poet is

and I’ve always loved you

in the way stock guys
love management

and the cab driver
loves porno

and the old man
loves tangelos

and the street sweeper
gave up

and watches
the cars pass

I love you

like Spaghettios

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

My Family

We’re at a Cuban restaurant on North Avenue
my mom is staring at the plantains and commenting
on how much they look like little potato pancakes
and my dad is telling the owner why she needs to charge
a corkage fee so he can bring his own wine
and my brother’s telling me I need to clean my glasses
and we get into an argument about the Hawaiian Punch guy
and my family’s laughing at me cus I remembered him
having antlers on his head and my dad goes “no it was a
porkpie hat” and then my mom and dad start complaining about
my brother needing to find an apartment on campus in
time “I’m gonna say this once and then let it go…”
which my dad says with everything he complains about
repeatedly and then my mom starts in on how she
can’t believe my aunt and uncle took a trip to
Tokyo for a friend’s wedding my aunt and uncle
who have a mansion in Glenview and another somewhere
in Colorado and my dad says “because they can”
and my mom says “but I just don’t get it. I would
never go to an employee’s wedding in Tokyo” and my
dad says “well they’re friends” and my mom goes
“well I still don’t get it” and my dad goes “well I
guess that’s just one of life’s great mysteries”
but my mom says she still doesn’t get it
and my dad closes his eyes and breathes deeply
and we go and my mom makes my brother
straighten the blinds each one individually so they’re
all perfectly even and I ask “why is she making you
do that?” and my brother goes “because she’s fucking crazy”
and my dad makes my brother and I haul a hundred-pound
disassembled wine rack downstairs and he’s too tired to
take me home so my brother takes me home and we talk
the whole ride there about poker and getting laid
in college and he drops me off I go in crack open
a bottle of whiskey take a stiff shot and write this poem

© 2008 Lee Kitzis