Neutral Spaces Birthday Poems
Mike Andrelczyk
Marmalade Dove
The marmalade dove shivers in the crystal
candy dish eye of the jelly sun.
It takes all day to get to the country
we suck on moon-flavored lies to pass the time.
We rest a while under the burning leaves of onyx tree
The shadows coo like the marmalade dove.
We whip the invisible oxen as we haul your birthday cake
to your party but when we get there
All we find is an otherwise empty graveyard
and a single glowing man eating sherbet.
“Popsicles?” He asks.
In the purple scent of hyacinths we lick the icing from
each other’s fingers and sing “Happy Birthday”
To everyone who is not here.
The Happy Birthday Neutral Spaces Poem
lost in the city. but a Tron-like version of the city
(the one with Jeff Bridges) somewhere you’ve been
in another life. memories of this
city. memories best not to go into.
over the bridges. to the other side. in a cold fall
night waiting for the sleeping
pills. alone in a grid.
a moon in a mirror.
new directions
(not the press)
inside a box. every step like turning
a corner
always losing it (already lost)
and then a soft window appears pinkly floating
and from the warm homelight a family singing:
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Neutral Spaces
Happy birthday to you
and then the lights blow go out (again. infinite agains) and
I (the other I)
wake up on the canvas
in the middle of a boxing ring
and a soft yellow light hovers above me
and I turn my head
and the faces of everybody I don’t know
are vibrating
pop stars
and faces from TV
Dave Eggers just lost $1,000,000
(no big deal)
and he mouths
the words (fuck that guy)
and my mouth is bleeding
and I am the loser
and it’s my birthday too
Rule Change
A change to the boxing rules
Mandating that at the end of each round
The ref must say
Hey, c’mon stop it, you guys are friends
In the whiniest voice possible
Shipping
a cargo ship
but it’s shaped like a pair
of giant camo cargo shorts
and inside the pockets are crates
full of smaller pairs of actual
camo cargo shorts
but they are shaped like cargo ships
Pyramid
The shape of a mountain
A score of centuries
The tooth of a behemoth
An arrow to the future
A passage through
A cheap cigarette scheme
A mound of ash
An upside down martini glass
A new party hat
For another year
A thing that comes to an end.
Mike Andrelczyk lives with his wife Stacey in Strasburg, PA. He is the author of a book of haiku “Dissolving” (2019) and a chapbook “The Iguana Green City & Other Poems” (2018) and is working on a new book of dumb poems called “101 Stupid Jokes for Stupid Kids.” Find more work on this birthday boy’s website. He tweets at @MikeAndrelczyk.