Poetry by F.D Marcél

shame gonna be

shame gonna be
longtime frozen breath floating away
on cold nights like drunken consequence. &
the breathing is labored
like driving Ohio.

we left a venue after the bars closed,
missing the hamburgers served
by the toaster-looking diner down the street &
the vulgar-named record store
Alabama Thunderpussy
where the long-haired cashier shrank for my disposable camera,
saying it would steal his soul
like he was an old Okie Cherokee. the offramp
turned out southwest
for Cincinnati. six hours driving west
on a horizon that never ended, lights
on the horizon for miles and miles
w/ semis passing blowing wind
against my sedan-ish car, shaking it.
there was darkness and headlights,
factories in the distance that looked like small cities
rising up & out. the rest stops did no good,
pausing the travel-scurvy, breathing weary halitosis
in carbon-monoxide form.
everything at a right-angle.

first time westward
w/o riding a freight, coming into Cincy at an angle,
heavy eyelids blurred it all.
finding the city’s airport across state lines
in Kentucky, I told my passenger the story
of trainhopping KY, stealing ham and Kraft Mac
from a supermarket, cooking them together
in a traveled pot for myself &
a beautiful-girl runaway
heading to Hollywood. we sat beneath an underpass eating,
I read her Vaneigem,
we slept side by side for warmth &
that was all.

and I remember most the Ohio horizon,
flat and unending,
all the lights lined up infinite. how things looked
driving parallel. how there was nothing
but the flat earth everyone assumed before Strabo &
Aristotle. how there was nothing.

pride in others

Bottle of jack in my hand &
I know what you’ll ask me
so I
close my eyes and let you
talk but
you’re years too late &
you can’t
save yourself from me
so how
could you save me from
what’s killing me?
I love you for trying
I’d love you more
if one of us
could escape
and do better
somewhere else.

You left in the morning.


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