Slam |
(robotmelon (issue five))
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by Drew Kalbach |
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Once I slammed an
entire schoolbus of children
and they thanked me
for it.
Several wild dogs
felt very indebted to
the ASPCA for abducting their brethren.
We drank pure olive
oil,
you are extra virgin,
you thanked us and drank the oil,
you take your place
in the cage and whine for water.
I am briefly reminded
that you can see the continents' lights at night
from space and that a
golfball is somewhere
orbiting a moon.
You slam windows and
single mothers.
I am somewhere
breakfasting on fresh oysters and bolts and
large, stringless
kites.
He says sailing
across the ocean was easy,
it was the coming
home and dealing with prime-time television that was difficult.
I slam the telephone
with ads from a telemarketer and a man with a fake
Russian accent begs
me to lend him two thousand dollars
so he can unlock an
offshore account, maybe
rent a new yacht.
We're partners he
says.
We'll slam the
Mediterranean by Friday, just have the money
by Tuesday.
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