Hawaiian Shirts in the Electric Chair
poems
Scott Laudati
Copyright © 2014 by Scott Laudati
(KUBOA)/SmashWords Edition
www.kuboapress.wordpress.com
It is the genuine hope of KUBOA to receive unfiltered feedback from readers regarding the works we produce. Whether your reaction to the work was positive, negative, or ambivalent, we would much appreciate your taking the time to send some remarks to us—these will be shared with the authors.
[email protected] Can we live
like this?
it didn’t take so long
did it?
your story’s
in your
smile, those lips
once said
“i’ll
never
love again”.
i know
you’re a fighter, kid,
life
didn’t take
it’s time
with
you, but you’re
not so bored,
there’s still a light
in there.
sure,
you
can sway
like the
breezy
palm trees
of your hometown
but i don’t
want to
know
if you can bend ...
can you break?
i remember
your greasy
hair from
the plane,
your legs crossed
on the white sheets,
the slow surrender
of your eyes
when you realized
i thought
you
were beautiful.
it was sudden
and eternal.
i chose you
to erase
all my sorrows.
will you?
you see
life in the raw
and that makes me
trust you.
we know
when
we
find
our own
i think
about what it
will be like.
the coffee.
the date.
the booze.
the bed.
the cigarette.
but
i can
leave those
for the men
that came
before.
i
want
your window,
to
watch
the breeze
through the leaves
of those palms
and wonder
if this life
actually
existed before
you got here
Grit
they all want to be artists
they change their majors
from psychology
to sculpting
they change later
from sculpting
to economics
their parents say get a job
save money
you can work your art out on the weekends
most give in
get the job
they sleep around in their twenties
they get pregnant
sometimes for love
usually by accident
they get promoted
they become their refrigerator
some stay on
move to the dominican neighborhoods
move to the outer boroughs
keep hustling
always one contact away from the big gallery
thinking they made the sacrifice
art owes them now
one day it will happen
but it doesn’t
or when it does
it’s just too late
too much time happened
to question, playing
the ultimate gamble
with no chance to return
and get it right
or rewind
and try again
but they bet their life
and the ashtrays never emptied
and the bottles never corked
and they left something behind
good or bad
they wrote their own epitaphs
and the graveyards
and libraries
and art galleries
all filled
because the artist lived
and the artist left something behind.
but whether the dream
was lived out
or sold out
it’s hard to see a family
on a blanket under a free sky
every july 4th
or around a christmas tree every december
or taking a picture
with mickey mouse in the florida summer
and argue
that the love that shares your name
is the only art
worth waking up for
a garden
east of eden
if i could do it all over again
there’s not much i would do the same
i would say i love you a lot more
to a lot less people
i would only find brick walls on black and white streets
to kiss against
i would buy a shag carpet every day
and lay in it
and i would never eat until my chest was thin as paper
so you could see that
my heart
looks
like
a heart
and every time i’d say
the house will always smell like fresh flowers
i’d mean it
and every car door i could open for you
i’d open it
and every cage that held a turtle
i’d free it
and every dog that had no home
i’d adopt it
and every door in the house that wasn’t painted yellow
i’d paint it
and every bike that had a basket
i’d fill it
and when i promised i was over it
i would be
but when i said
i don’t want you to love me any more than you do
i’d still be lying
and i’d still hope that you were smarter than me
and you wouldn’t change a thing
We Need The Bomb
we turned on the tv
and they said, “we have
the bomb, they
have the bomb,
the one’s to the
north
and the west
have the bomb,
but now
THEY
are trying
to get
the bomb
and when they
do
the world will finally
go out
as it
came in-
the cataclysm of
fission and fusion
and all the fury
of a billion
years of anger,
the madness of good men,
and with their deaths
will go
the anger
as it gets brought
back
to the place-
wherever that
place is
that
anger comes from.
i was sto
ned enough
to be
afraid
but you sat with
me and drank
something made
for a
vacation
we never
went on
and you said,
“well,
we better get
the bomb before
they do.” and
you took me
to the bedroom. and
for the first time
you
were violent
and you
were terrifying
and the wall shook
and i
went
blind
with helpless orgasm.
i’m not sure what the
bomb
will look like
on the day all the leaders
get together
and decide to play
a big game
of dodgeball,
but
for the andromedans,
and the reptilians
watching
from the moon-
it’ll probably
look like
the earth
going
blind
with helpless orgasm.
New Jersey
The world has found New Jersey,
the
new
entertainment capital.
like an ant farm
on a glucose high,
now,
we crawl
we build
we eat each
other, we carry the
dead, we swarm the
living, and we sit
in
your living
room, while getting picked apart,
and
give joy
to those viewing-
that life can always
hit a new low.
they understand that when fate gives them
the dagger, at least it didn’t come
soaked
in coconut oil.
usually
when the networks
come and
the advertisers pay,
those on the other end-
providing the
laughs
and the quotes,
are the ones
with the last laugh,
that the spectators
and the tourists
are the fools
for tuning in.
but
like the bad end of
a casino game,
it seems the joke
is on us.
and even though
our pizza
is better
i’m pretty sure
the masses
are right.
and for the first time
in all history
the masses are right for the right reason,
and i’m not invited to the
victory party
To The Girl I Went
On A Date With Last Night
Your songs
never got sadder,
how can that
be?
Your mother
still
has your father
you held onto
your God,
I didn’t
know
the world
still deserved
something like
that
Yea,
I’ll go to brooklyn
I’ll pay for the booze
I’ll walk you around.
we can stand.
watch
the sun go down
behind
the last projects of lower manhattan.
I’ll wonder if I invented you
and I’ll wonder if you’ll erase me.
i’ve got the torch in
my hand
don’t turn
your face too quickly,
even a breeze
will give the flames
a reason
to dance.
you’ve got
the after storm blue eyes.
your eyes
tell me you sat on this bench before,
you
know
which two buildings
the sun
will split. it’s
the knowledge
of a broken heart.
even with your God
and
your parents
love has been a betrayal.
you spent too much
time on this bench
alone. you
know
the bums,
you know which hipster
will bring the guitar
and what song he
will sing.
you can’t know these things
until you’re alone. and
you can’t
be alone
until you’ve
learned
you’re only safe
with
yourself.
it’s hard
to know when
to make a move.
the last light has
attached itself
around your
head
like an
icon.
the divine glow,
whatever
that yellow
ring
is circling the white dove
that means
peace and love
and the sun
and spring
and youth.
i know i should
kiss you now,
but i don’t
because
you say
“let’s swim to
Manhattan”,
and
in the water reflection
I realize I’d rather see you smile
than see
your face touching mine
And maybe
it
should end like that.
with us
not touching
and I could know
you
like the
birds know the sky.
and I won’t have to invent you.
and you’ll never have to erase me.
your songs
will stay sweet
and we
can share the dark places
of our hearts
that
no one else
gets to see.
i’ll
love you
like only a man
who never gets the girl
can,
and every day
will feel like
those
last minutes
we put our heads
to the ground,
figuring out
how to
share our first kiss
goodbye
Wait For It
There's not a high enough hill on earth to stand on and scream for God. I can see you. Above the trees. A long blue sky with big fleece clouds. Pointing your finger straight up, demanding first salvation, then a few dollars, and finally, just acknowledgment. But he never shows. How can that surprise you? You were never able to get us on the ground to stop laughing at you. You think God is going to turn the television down?
take the Path for
cocaine and PLATH
i left her apartment
with nowhere to be
and no home
to hurry to.
her advertising job kept
the work-shift late
and the wake up calls
early.
in between i would show up
on her Eastside
apartment doorstep
with a bo
ttle
of wine.
she’s been with people
i know,
people
way cooler than me
but I had an advantage-
i knew their
strategies. I’d seen
them at work,
and I remembered the times
when she was bored
and
i remembered how much
she liked danger
what could stand me out
from the rest?
... cocaine
i have a friend in newark
she squares up
with a guy. his family
ships the good stuff
in through some fish market or
he’s a port authority cop.
the nights we
got honest enough to share
dealers our noses
were bleeding
and the dog tried stopping
us before
our heartbeats caused seismic shifts
-the details come and go (mostly go)
but i crossed the river to jersey,
got the candy
then took the train underwater
and
headed back
uptown
she was happy to see me.
she went to the bathroom
i pulled
a mirror off the wall
and cut two
lines. i heard the shower
water go on. i made
the lines
a little bigger.
i
could smell chemical
fruit coming
from under the bathroom door.
i shaped
each line
into
3 quarters of a
heart. they were perfect.
with a space
big enough
to
start
and
end
without messing up
the powder
she came out
and looked
at my creation.
“what
is
that?”
“cocaine”
“I don’t want any cocaine. Why am i looking
at cocaine?”
“What says I love you
like our noses
sharing
a dollar bill?”
she was angry.
i’d had her all
wrong. i went for a walk
while she calmed
down.
how could i get
this girl
to fall for me?
i looked for
a park.
i was going to find a dog park
so i could
steal
her a puppy,
but
a used book store
had a cart
out on the
sidewalk.
i wanted to read something
about failure
but
i didn’t.
i bought a copy of
the sun also rises- for me
and something by sylvia plath- for her
she opened the door on the first knock
i handed her
both books.
“why?” she asked.
“i want to build a library with you”
we ate pho
and used
our
first two books as coasters
i
don’t
know
if she fell in love with me that night,
but i’m pretty sure
she will
the dog days are over
sometimes
when i lose too much faith in the world-
too many wars
too many police
all going so right
for the wrong,
i look at my dog,
fearless
asleep
farting
shedding
all over my couch.
a wild animal brought in
to serve a purpose