Lottery Tickets and Fake Shits

The speakers
blare 90s hits about
soaking up the sun
and living in the sun

I check losing lottery tickets
and fill the cooler
while outside young money
slips on ice

it's a kind of paradise

I ask my boss for a bathroom break

she scowls and says "go ahead"

I sit in the stall
and plan my next move

a long sigh
then I flush for appearances

when I get back
there's a man standing at the register
he has a dirty White Sox hoodie on
and bedhead hair

he gives me his instant win ticket

"I know I keep getting taken," he says

"but I just keep playing."

NOT A WINNER
the screen flashes

I tear up his ticket
he thanks me
and walks away

off into the ice

off into paradise

thinking
one day
maybe

© 2011 Lee Kitzis

Black Coffee

I drink black coffee
and listen to Bird play the horn
effortless

like he's taking out the trash

as if to say

we are all dying
little by little

and everything is right
with the world

while it blizzards

and everyone
struggles with shovels

and starting cars

dying
little by little

till they're left
at the side of the road

on some unforgiving
six degree
Midwestern night

or sold for scrap

and everything is right

with the world

dying out

at the end of its song

Bird lights a cigarette

and smiles

© 2011 Lee Kitzis

December 31, 2010

New Year's Eve

everyone's asleep in the cafeteria

no holiday bonus
not even so much as a thank you note

the crowd files downstairs
good wholesome families
3 kids
paid vacation

the product
of Veuve Clicquot
and missionary sex

New Year's Eve
not even so much as a thank you note

they put on their white aprons
and move to the spaghetti bar

the poor
the beaten

sleep creases all over their faces

while the meatballs wait
plump and ready

© 2011 Lee Kitzis

The Man With the Sweet Potato Sandwich

I was on the train
during rush hour
and a man came on

he was eating
a sandwich
with what looked to be
some sort of sweet potatoey substance
packed inside

he yelled
"excuse me everybody!"

and then proceeded to swing
his giant backpack around

hitting people
in the stomach and arms

crushing businessmen
and old ladies

until finally
settling on me

like a dodo bird
nesting it's young

I expected him to move

but he didn't

he just stood there

pinning me
against the handrail

eating his radioactive
orange sandwich

staring into the middle distance

chewing

the chew

of a man on the cusp
of According to Jim
is a really funny show

and
I just shit my pants

not noticing

not caring

he was a god
for a second

then he moved

and it was gone

he was just a man

with crumbs on his lips

waiting on nothing in particular

waiting on the train

© 2010 Lee Kitzis

A UN Meeting in Aisle 17

Make it look pretty
he said

This is the grand opening

When I’m here

you’re gonna be facing your asses off

So we faced

me and the kid from Ghana

pulling the Fresh Burst Listerines
and Dove body bars out

he pulled
like his life depended on it

while the managers
smoked cigarettes
and talked about bowling

he pulled and pulled

for pennies

for his family back home

I pulled for rent

I was much slower

I liked the guy though

we were both pulling

while the rest of the world picked

it was the way it worked

it was the way it didn’t

© 2010 Lee Kitzis

Cleaning the Shelves

The old women on the laxative bottles dance

There’s a box of irritable bowel meds
with an ice cream cone on it

next to the ice cream cone it says
“vanilla twist”

next to that it says
“diarrhea”

I make my way to the “personal confidence” pads
when the muzak kicks in

I estimate I’ve inhaled about 3 grams of human skin cells

it must be 3:30

I check my cell phone clock

it’s 2:15

Depends
pour femmes

French is such a beautiful language

If you ask them why

why you have to do this

they’ll tell you

it must be done

if you ask them
for more money

they’ll tell you
it cannot be done

and the maxi-pads stay clean

your grandpa shits in his pants

and everyone thinks he was gardening

and you continue to inhale your forefathers
for a check that isn’t yours

You continue

with the bad music

and the dust

© 2010 Lee Kitzis

Greg

Greg has a tiny dress shirt

and tiny dress pants

his tiny hands
move across the calendar
filled with small decisions

he is angry

angry at his job
angry at the traffic
angry at his internet connection

angry at the fact that he has to shave his head
to cover up the fact that he’s bald

Every time he puts his name-tag on
his heart clenches like a fist

he carries it in his hands
as he moves through the tampon aisle
like an SS officer

searching for you

with something worse than a gun

he sees his name duct taped across every sign

Greg has lost his mind

he is a walking grocery store

when he finds you

he extends his hand

and gives you
what he has

it’s extra hours

you shrink 5 inches
your hair falls out

Now you’re Greg

a walking grocery store

always open

making small decisions

with your tiny hands

© 2010 Lee Kitzis