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i read
in some such book
that if you removed
the veins and arteries
of a human being
and lined them up
they'd wind around the earth
three times over. no mention of the heart.
which is just as well. it's a
stillborn organ this century.
the failed marriage
the first case of gonorrhea
at thirty-one years old
the forty-year-old girlfriend
with a masters in quilting
who cuts her wrists
when you leave her
the three-week case of
writers block
the seven-week case of
writers block
a moth
the size of a pancake
on your bathroom mirror
bruises
the shape of
a woman's fist
up and down
your sternum
at 11:37am
on a tuesday
when your three-year-old son
turns to you
like a willing disciple
between bites of a peanut butter sandwich
and wants to know
why you don't
live at his house
anymore.
you're the most
unhappy man
i've ever met,
said the brunette
as we ate oysters
on our
third date.
she hadn't meant it
as a compliment
but i
took it
as one.
it's the secret
to my
enduring ego:
a general offshoot
of the
idiot bar mitzvah
up here
behind these eyes.
Justin Hyde lives in Iowa where he works with criminals. He has a Web page at http://www.nyqpoets.net/poet/justinhyde. He can be contacted here: jjjjhyde@yahoo.com.