Gianni Gaudino

Gianni Gaudino is an Adjunct Instructor of English at Atlantic Cape Community College. His poems have appeared in Philadelphia Stories. He lives in Margate, New Jersey.

 

 

I am feral actually

 

Sometimes I just want to eat

the whole jar of peanut butter,

 

or have sex with a nameless man

against a moist tree, his face an aperture

 

under the glow of the moon.

I don’t respond well to criticism–

 

let me walk around with a dirty mouth:

I can only buy so many organic apples

 

before the lights come on in this cinema,

pulling the drapes from my white shirt

 

to reveal fangs and a growl. Think of me

as a mirage when you’re parched.

 

I’ll be the abstract one, letting

my phone ring and ring. I water

 

your corpse to life and then vanish

like a breeze in the desert. Open all the windows

 

in your home to this wind; place your hand

on my pulse and your body ricochets.

 

 

Toxic

 

I pay rent to my landlord

who went to law school

My landlord whose father

was a banker Whose father owned

a sweat shop Today I’m 26

Everything could go my way

PNC kicked me off

my savings plan saying

I borrow too much of my own

money “Sorry for using

my own money” I tell them

“The idea was some men’s lightyears away”

they say I sip espresso

most mornings Grocery shopping

I buy  two apples and soda and milk

and razors–everyday

my boss gawks my stubbly face

@ 4pm Rain all day

Afraid to tell ppl how dreary

I think the city is My therapist’s

operator says dial 911–

hard buttons to press

but I do A cop shows up

I cry on my floor tell him

“I want to die!” snot dangles

from my nose Cop w/ his big

cop boots stands over me

radios to his cop friends

for back up                  I roll

into myself the way a roly

poly might when its back

is pressed                   I roll

kiss my knees and tell myself

it’s okay it’s okay       Three

more cops show up      Holding

nightsticks  punching

each other’s kevlar vests

Using their boots they unravel

my circular body     I cry

harder now      Scream how dreary

this city is   My bankers

show up, holding a roll

of paper    My landlord

shows up asks about rent

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