Poetry by Mark Danowsky

                     Kaoru CC



Sometimes it would be nice to speak to you in titles
 
Sometimes it would be nice to speak to you in titles
 
I’m already tempted to end this poem

               Exit, pursued by the devil
 
I kind of wish this was a call and response
 
             or I want you to be able to do a write-in
             request for a better line

Instead of “fuzzy little wolf-like thing” 

               how about live wire, the 3rd rail, your friend

Some can say, “One of my houses” 

              I can say, “One of my therapists”

Mom says, You can’t take it with you

              so I am an aspirational minimalist 

Dad still calls me out in casual conversation 
    
               when I use the wrong form of a word 

My brother is quick to tell me 

               This is one of those times it’s ok to...

If you were still here

               I would be different 

Sometimes it would be nice to speak to you in titles

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[Excerpt] 

Apology Tour 
 
Here I go again on my own
Goin' down the only road I've ever known
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone
An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time
 
                                -Whitesnake
 
The night wants nothing from me
The night needs nothing from me
I tell myself, again
 
                             ***

The young man in my car tells me
If you’re not under the influence
It’s just hope…boundless hope

On our way to retrieve his impounded Subaru with expired tags
he continues, Under the influence you recede into a space
Where you can address reality
Past, all the bad things, without dwelling hopelessly
 
                           ***

On the in-store muzak they’re unironically playing What About Love
 
                I can’t sell you
                What you don’t want to buy
  
                             ***
 
Unlike A.I. we are limited by scale

                             ***
 
A man in the supermarket walks by

On the back of his black t-shirt in white lettering:

                WHEN IN DOUBT
                EMPTY THE MAGAZINE
 
                              ***
 
They say never go to bed angry
But when you’re alone
No one is present to say
Never go to bed depressed
 
                              ***
 
On break, I learn what others in service are up to
 
A joke about throwing something
I pretend I mishear
Say, Did you say you’d throw him on the grill?
(internal sigh of relief that I receive an unscripted response)
That’s right, we believe in Capital Punishment here at McDonald’s
 
                              ***

Last time I had a shift at Walmart
I left something behind
Walked across the store from my workstation
To where we keep our supplies in the warehouse
371 steps one way
 
                               ***

On the phone I over-share this thought
About growing up with rich people
Then going on to be treated badly by poor people

                               ***

On the drive to therapy, I notice new signs
 
                MACHINE GUN RENTALS
 
Quick math: Sandy Hook was 6 years ago this December
 
                                ***
 
A regular tells me he bow hunts from a seated position
 
Has a chair that swivels 360°
 
Turn real slow, he explains
How how puts salt licks out to draw game
 
I learn his friend butchers for free
 
                                 ***
 
An insider tells me they lie to customers about the birds.
Shoppers want to know what happens to The Birds of Walmart.
Protocol is to tell concerned shoppers that they’re captured
& released.
Really though, early mornings they’ll briefly close the otherwise 24-hour store
& a low-level employee will go around with a pellet rifle
Gunning down house finches, sparrows, whatever flies by
 
                                 ***
 
Henry Ford may have once said,
If two men drive more than 40 miles together
They inevitably establish a certain level of camaraderie
 
On a long drive with a Nigerian student
Eventually he says,
People would kill to be poor in America
 
                               ***
 
The ground hornet lands
On the fence post
With bird-like precision
 
                                ***
 
I tell another guy I’m Ubering about a job I know about
Working for the local ambulance company
 
24 hours on, 24 hours off
 
No one gets why it has to be that way
 
                                ***

At the store for locals
A mom yells at her daughter, maybe 4 years old,
You need to control your urges woman

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Mark Danowsky is a Philadelphia poet, author of the poetry collection As Falls Trees (NightBallet Press), Managing Editor of the Schuylkill Valley Journal, and Editor of ONE ART poetry journal.

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