When I Die I'll Have to File for Unemployment

Not much to do at work
so I wikipediad Pablo Picasso and Babe Ruth
while the pickpockets and Gary, Indiana moms
with Marlboro Menthol faces and diabetic ugly kids
waddled through the human heart exhibit and Toy Maker factory

the more they believe in God
the uglier they get

Babe Ruth was skinny
and Pablo Picasso was a Communist

Grand Canyon Adventure lets out
the families make their way towards the astronauts

Christ be with you I think

and turn off the computer

I wish I was a trust fund kid

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

snot n' haiku stuffins

Sorry 'bout the hiatus folks. You'll be happy to know I have my own internet connection now. No more masturbating at the window for this guy!
Lessee, what's new. Have a murderous cold. As a result, on just a few hours of sleep. Kids coughing in my face all day long will do that.
Me and Kid Douche went to the Horseshoe on Sunday. It's relatively new but it is in the Hammond, Indiana area. So give it a year til it looks like shit. My only real complaint is that everything's on one floor and the poker room is all the way in the back. So you have to walk through an abyss of slot sleeze and ugly cocktail waitresses before you make it there. The poker room was nice though. Tall ceilings and done up in an old-west motif.
Played the 3/6 limit game and finished ahead about 15 bucks. Which means after the rake and tips I broke even. Yay. But hey, that's casino poker.
Keeping with the haiku theme, here're two of my faves:

Even at the time
When my father lay dying
I still kept farting.

-Yamazaki Sokan (1464-1552)

My span of years
Today appears
A morning-glory's hour.

-Arkida Moritake (1472-1549)

Your sickly Jew -Lee

An American Retail Hymn

I said unto God
“deliver me from retail”

and God said back
“here’s a price-gun dipshit.
Get to work.”

and he smote me
w/ seasonal Bailey’s Irish creams and cargo pants
shots of wheatgrass and Harry Chapin Christmas giveaway CDs

and I sayeth
“why God why”

and he sayeth back unto me

“Follow the 15 stupid customers
in Indiana University sweat pants
and they will show you the way”

so
for 40 days
and 40 nights
we wandered the aisles of Jewel/Osco
in search of Yellow Tail Shiraz
and Jays Dip‘ems potato chips

until finally
weak from hunger and fatigue
we all reached the promised land

a pensionless death
in Albany

and let U.S. say
amen

© 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

A Love Note for Joe Maddon

(to anybody who doesn't care about baseball: DO NOT READ ON. you will be bored)

Needed to take some time to officially announce my man-crush on Joe Maddon.

For those of you who don't know who he is, he's the manager of the AL-champs currently going to the World Series, the Tampa Bay Rays.

For those of you unfamiliar with the team, they're a ten-year-old franchise who until this year had never finished a season with an over .500 record.

The new ownership took a chance on this bookworm/baseball genius who wears big black thick-rimmed nerd glasses and uses existential philosphy to motivate players. And behold! Look what happened.

Joe Maddon, you are an S.O.B. in the best possible way. As a Cubs fan (and a baseball nerd) I feel a kinship with the Rays. Except the Rays only have ten years of failure to overcome. Oh, and the Rays are competent.

That you took a team of young guns (Cliff Floyd pretty much being the only vet) and got them to believe in themselves and tap into their resources this quickly and to this degree is simply amazing.

Kill the Phillies. Ever since Larry Bowa left I haven't given a shit about them anyway.

Man-love,

Lee

P.S. Jim Hickey, I haven't forgotten about you. You're one of the best pitching coaches around.

Happy Birthday Max

The workdays get longer

The angry Russian men come in
wearing bluetooth headsets
beer guts expanding gray and black fake silk shirts

the truth is in the broken radio
and Max the stockman
celebrating his 75th birthday on the job

the buzz of the light
like an obese mosquito

while we hide in the cooler
eating pork rinds
and dreaming of the latina sample-girl’s thighs

everyone of us
running out the clock

the nukes will take us

before they take him

9 o’ clock

Happy Birthday Max

let’s punch out
and get the fuck out of here

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

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