by Matthew Olzmann, Hamtramck
I was led to believe by now I’d be famous, or simply
Unemployed & incoherent with at least one healthy
Narcotics habit hiding in my past
Or up my sleeve.
This was before I knew how it felt to hold a man back,
Three stories up, he was determined to die
His eyes went blank & his feet were
Slipping on the ledge.
I remember asking my mother what she wanted for her birthday. She said, “I used to ask for good kids.” But Mom,You’ve got great kids! She smiled,
“Now, I just want honest kids.”
On Sunday mornings, my neighbors hurl beer bottles Until they hurt. It’s a weekly ritual attempting to prove The American myth is alive & kicking with
A weak bladder & a bad liver.
In a past incarnation, I stared at my reflection ’till It went blind. I dreamt my lover covered me In crushed lotus petals & called me Barabus.
I’ve never been to Disneyland.
I’m not sure if I can scale the walls, but I was Born in Detroit, where it’s always possible to catch A quick glimpse beneath your skin
Pulled back by a universe of pins.
The rats ’round here get thick on last week’s garbage. If you listen, you can hear them: Them humansAre just as scared of you as you are of them.
Walk close enough
& they’ll scurry away.
–Matthew Olzmann, Hamtramck
Take me back to the Summer Fiction index.
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This article appears in Jul 17-23, 2002.
