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missing out

by Gabriel Ricard

It only bugs me a little that there’s a movie theater
every other block and twenty different zombie movies
for each of them every single week.

I swear to God there used to be other stories
hanging around this snail’s pace industrial revolution.

It’s bad enough that I don’t even wanna go out
in the afternoons. The mornings are too violent,
and the nighttime is a touch too surreal.

The Chinese food guy makes me give him
a twenty-dollar tip just for making it to the front door
in one piece.

Probably it would just be easier
to go back to the desert and take up that standing
invitation to be mayor of the largest ghost town in New Mexico.

Or find some religion from one of those cults
that’s been tearing my local grocery store apart
with power struggles, cartoon play fight showdowns
and political turmoil that’s funnier in person than it is on paper.

The other day I saw an ad for an online course
teaching astral projection. Maybe it’s time to start thinking
of ways to avoid strangers who are friends I just haven’t met
in that one place where it’s the sky supporting my most vocal hopes
and not the other way around.

I sure as hell don’t want any more of those rooms
where the grand illusion is the great party, and every single
actress under thirty knows how to get away with murder.

Where every writer lights their last cigarette before
New Year’s Eve and appreciates the necessity of breaking
at least a dozen laws in order to get a story going.

That’s pretty much the only social scene
that will have me anymore.

I guess it’s a lucky break that I know
how to use the internet to get my hands
on all those TV shows and movies I love so damn much.

Luckier still that the downstairs neighbors
have been running a bootleg whiskey business
to pay for their son’s little league uniforms.

They know me pretty well. They know I’m going out
less and less these days and that I’m still getting
cheques from people who humiliated me at every birthday party
from the first ten years of my life.

They cut me a deal
as long as I promise not to make small talk.

I guess it’s just something in the air.

At least I’m not the only one
who’s noticed it.

09/10/2010

Posted on 09/10/2010
Copyright © 2024 Gabriel Ricard

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Rhiannon Jones on 09/12/10 at 12:04 AM

"The other day I saw an ad for an online course teaching astral projection." OK, I really like that!

Posted by June Labyzon on 09/19/10 at 04:09 PM

in this poem you give Frank O'Hara and Charles Bukowski a run for their money.....a great read, something I will go back to over and over again...

Posted by Ken Harnisch on 09/23/10 at 05:53 PM

Ah, pure Ricard! A kaleidoscope of imagery you must caress, not grab hold of, lest you lose a nuance or three along the way. To many favorite lines to quote here and now, but trust me, this offering is chockful of them.

Posted by Tony Whitaker on 09/23/10 at 06:33 PM

Man, I've been away awhile. Loved this piece of painted pictures at an exhibition!

Posted by V. Blake on 09/24/10 at 09:39 PM

"It’s bad enough that I don’t even wanna go out in the afternoons. The mornings are too violent, and the nighttime is a touch too surreal." That about sums it up for me, man. Excellent write, as per usual.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 09/25/10 at 08:13 PM

You take me into the depths of the city mind and soul, each time adding more to the layers with your deft, smooth style. Thank you.

Posted by Scott Utley on 09/26/10 at 04:55 PM

Chet Baker

Posted by Meghan Helmich on 11/03/11 at 12:38 PM

"Luckier still that the downstairs neighbors/have been running a bootleg whiskey business/to pay for their son’s little league uniforms." This is just great. It was so unexpected. I don't know what it is about it, but I love it.

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