The Real Sounds of Lovers

We had a great time that night
drunk 3:30 A.M. taking short breaks
in between screws
me sniffling in your ear
because I couldn’t find my Afrin nasal spray
and you
with this weird drunk snore
like a cross between Darth Vader
and air escaping from a balloon

Those are the real sounds of lovers
they never say “You mean so much to me”
or “I love you more than life itself”
they say things like “Roll the fuck over”
or “You want another Old Style?”

and I never put anything romantic on in the background
like Miles Davis or Chopin
it was usually the Cubs game
and when we’d finish
I’d lean over and ask you
if Ron Santo got you hot

cus this world’s cruel
and cus soon we’ll be old and unfuckable
and all we’ll have are our memories
of the Cubs blowing it against the Mets
and air escaping from a balloon

This is why
the real sounds of lovers
is the most important thing there is

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Monday Morning and it's Still all the Same

I woke up
to the sound of Chan Marshall

orthopedic heat pads on the floor
books of poetry
and used cognac bottles

the dust bunnies collecting like armies
and my stomach’s in pain

four new gray hairs

and no love for months

I feel sorry
for the people with bibles under their arms

the grocery store clerk

and the Yellow Cab driver
with a gun to his head

the birds that taunt the insomniacs

and the ones that have slept for 8 hours
but are tired for reasons
they can’t understand

and I don’t either

and we never will

last night
I dreamt I lost the dog
of a woman I love
but could not tell

We were in the city
and he was gone

but she didn’t care

then I woke up
Monday morning
to the sound of Chan Marshall

and it was a very good song

for all of us

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

The Laundromat Girl

It’s a lonely life
as a Laundromat girl

Nothin’ to do
but watch clothes spin
in the Dexter Stack Cycle
and kids drowning
on the channel five news

counting down the hours
10 ‘til the doors close
11 when the cycles stop

I’m sitting
reading the Dhammapada
asking what Buddha would do
keeping an eye on my tighty-whities

Relax Lee
free yourself of attachment
a homeless guy
isn't interested in
wearing your underwear

and I’m hoping
the cute girl across the way
spies me reading some Buddhist text

and she’ll think I’m a thinking man
and we’ll strike up conversation
and fuck back at my place

God I’m awful at this Buddhist thing

But she leaves

and it’s just me and the Laundromat girl

and the Bears losing
on TV

She’s short
stocky
Hispanic
black thick-rimmed
glasses
that “lonely librarian” look
as Jeremy and I
call it

and I imagine
I take her
into the back room
behind the jumbo driers
and make love to her
and for that short period of time
she’s not a Laundromat girl
and I’m not in retail

and I’d say
some cheesy line
like
“You’re the fabric of my life”
or
“I think my laundry’s done”

and I’d load up my things
and walk off

at 11 on the dot

when the cycles stop

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

A Brief History of the Cubs

billy goat

black cat

steve

next year

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Another Short Poem

hemingway typed standing up

i type sitting in a lawn chair

that’s not very romantic

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

I Found Religion in a Roller Derby Girl

It’s Sunday morning
the sunlight
bathing the Phoenix wing tattoos
on your back
and your punk rock cat
w/ the studded collar
and the toe fetish
purring at my feet

Hung-over
w/ a stomach full of
Trader Joe’s cheese
and wine-in-a-box

and you with the jimmy legs
hogging the covers
while the pope’s
getting ready for bed

We’re just a couple of Atheists
and the only thing waking us up
is the baseball scores
on the clock radio

One week ago
we were drinking Pabst pints
at Healy’s
listing our broken dreams

You told me
you wanted to be
the first ballerina to dance
on the moon

I said I did too
and knew
the joys of morning-after sex
during the service
when the choir
hits the high note
and you dig your nails
into my back

and then
the service is over

and the concluding prayer

and the pope’s praying before bed

but I got what I want
in the devil on your stomach
on Sunday morning
and the sunlight bathing
the Phoenix wing tattoos
on your back

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

For Dan

You said no one wants to read about misery all the time

so this poem’s for you

© 2008 Lee Kitzis