ham-fist bones
Adam Soldofsky
shut
little morning bird
the fuck up
in your time of day
screwed up little
window person
that’s why no one
talks to you
two things
can be true
at once
if you know
what i mean
i’m speaking
from the heart
from my ass
it is truly a pleasure
all mine
and an honor
to approach the horrors
of life with you
this way
you are too indulgent
of me
thank you
let it be
our little secret
we can build
an understanding
on the premise
of mutual
bafflement
maybe
a bonding exercise
would help
please
take up what you consider
an unflattering picture
of yourself
(i have mine)
now ask yourself
are you ready
to love this person
don’t answer that
with something prepared
bear with me
as i lick a battery
terminal
now the build up
at the corners of my mouth
begins
to make sense
we are accelerating
toward the realization
that nothing
in the world
can take your place
which is ultimately
of no value to you
who want only to
and cannot forever
remain in the world
clearly one of us
is struggling
with the imperative
to identify something
called childhood
wherein one must come
to the end of wishing
i don’t care
much for that
when the extraordinary
thing I’m telling myself
disguises a practical use
i am self-betrayed
with the added result
that now i cannot be
consoled
i wish i wasn’t such a drag
i wasn’t always
(i was worse)
you can thank god
for such
lowly forms
of transcendence
they provide the model
i suppose
for something
far more grand
can you see me
having such thoughts as these
in public
it’s embarrassing
and worse
if i come into contact
with my reflection
returning to you
if i may
it is a pleasure
to think of you
in line at the taqueria
that something good
lies just ahead
despite your imaginary status
i hope you get
what you came for
even if you are no good
and neither am i
*
a window
soon
will open
during which time
we will need to decide
if we are indeed interested
in being
very mature
or a fugitive
from adulthood
about the window
it is a portal
always appearing
a bit too small
to admit you
as you are
i hate this so much
first of all
as a metaphor
it is wrong
insomuch as
it belongs to the moralist
whose sex appeal
has been foreclosed upon
or at best
is merely incidental
aging appropriately
a young person
smiles kindly at you
thinking
they’d rather be dead
and that is a show
of respect
*
saying one thing
doing another
would it be different
if i had money
i could cease
counting on my hands
and knees
i would know then
how to pronounce
the word
remunerative
and understand
the meaning of
mixed company
not broaching
certain subjects
is a form of confession
of this i am aware
and that i would enjoy
playing a game
of three-card monty
in which my fate
is never revealed
like feeling stupid
an entire day
about something you said
before deciding
you don’t care
yes
ultimately
you are stupid
but at least
you have come
to some agreement
meeting you
i place myself
in interpersonal jeopardy
you are included
in my destiny
i am included
in whatever substitute term
you prefer to describe
the entire
web of coincidence
linking all phenomena
now there is no end
to the harm
we can do each other
before we part ways
but most likely
the worst that will happen
is someone
will say something
stupid
and this
will come
as a relief
*
i’m getting wasted
things are going
very well
i have discovered
all there is to discover
until tomorrow
when i will once again
be rudely propositioned
by the kind of energy
one can see
someone who knows
what they are doing
is so attractive
while they are doing it
it is almost enough
to give me second thoughts
about despising
such a person
and never telling them so
it is enough
to drive a person
into the arms
of the great outdoors
can i help you
i’m just looking
for someone
who will say to me
a grown man
baby
you are truly
something else
do you realize
you are driving me insane
which means
i’ve been paid attention
is this not proof
that i exist
no doubt
a gentle expanse
of pine groves
beneath blue mountains
the prey animals
moving over the ground
like little machines
that fear death
all of it
beyond doubt
knows what it’s doing
*
you enter
the revolving door
i enter
the revolving door
we are strangers
no more
we are united
in our cause
this is fellowship
and i never want to leave
but apparently
you do
how can you
abandon me
like this
you have changed
so much
in the time
i have known you
i have never felt such
betrayal
go then
in the light jacket
of your wickedness
never again
will you meet
a soul so pure
*
i woke up
the world
was a color wheel
of painful remorse
my thoughts have worked
against me
juvenile
histrionic
pristine
selfishnesses
so beautiful
i cannot begin
to tell you
sort of a
i’ll-see-what-i-can-do
model of god
it doesn’t exactly
fill me
with confidence
wishing i were younger
and someone else
never gets old
should this person
ever appear
they will receive
a standing ovation
like jesus christ
very nice
it is a small miracle
when you are deemed
perfectly acceptable
you are redeemed
when you sleep
you are gentle and mild
but it all goes out
the window
*
centuries of unrest
gather beneath your eyes
you are trailing
a fine new dust
making a face
difficult to countenance
if ever properly reassured
i fear
i would collapse
into your arms
i want to avoid
yet another
period of reflection
in plain air
i resemble
a joke
that must not land
the sun
reminds me of my faults
it is my fault
if i don’t enjoy it
it is your prerogative
to endeavor
to become
someone
new
under the sun
*
why is everyone
so boring
and stupid
god thought
maybe i’m just
having a bad day
the struggle for power
is so boring and stupid
and people look
ridiculous
even when they are not
having sex
i hope you know
surrender
and giving up
are not the same
phenomenon
as long as they remain
optional
a person
may have adventures
in the space between
but back to my job
dancing seductively
among the too numerous
counterpoised
doom scenarios
even if the world explodes
i want to be found
attractive
until the final moment
by my very presence
i am asking
do you like me
do you want me
to go away
*
i am rooting for you
and against
incredulity
i do not stand a chance
no matter what i do
i cannot summon
the powerful djinn
inside my phone
it knows my wishes
anyway
there is no wishing
for fewer
and yet a total stranger
tells me to
have a good day
and inexplicably
i do
it lasts and lasts
despite all my suspicion
i begin to wish
for a delayed resolution
regarding pleasure
it occurs to me
i am running
a confidence game
what i want
i cannot
acknowledge
until i have it
at which point
nothing
can be trusted
on and on like that
until i think
about the dog’s
smile
Adam Soldofsky is the author of Memory Foam (poems) and Telepaphone (a novella).