Poetry: Selections from Damon Hubbs

Arcade / Cubist Gators

the Dragon’s Den

gouache blended & stenciled

in California cool

 

a wraparound raster

of colorful cabinets

housing formative memories

 

you have a fistful of quarters,

I have a few quarters more.

we throw down the gauntlet

 

for the Sweet Valley High girls.

they yawn like Pierrot pin-ups

& watch asteroids vector into

 

darkness, our frogs bulldozed

or eaten by Cubist gators. still

we walk through the coin doors

 

ride high in the Tropical deco overspray

of cherries falling on the racy hoods

of sports cars

 

the girls don’t care a lick.

they airbrush us long distance kisses,

lips blitz clubbed like Coca-Cola tins

Skeeball

down the edge of the pier

past the peeling girlie billboards

and dreamland gondola rides

the Ferris wheel’s red and yellow capsules

 

pop and release

in the Atlantic

shimmering like refractive errors

on smooth glass green waves

 

one last ride

not far from land

down the edge of the pier

the mermaids hang their tails to dry

 

I watch the muscle boys

grow up, pass go

skeeball their seed

down the boardwalk

 

vow fealty to the Cat

and his family of tokens

down the edge

of the pier

 

ball-hopping

dreaming empire

dime tossing

the milk bottle

 

until the balloon bursts

and the penny arcade’s Mystic Oracle

dispenses fortunes

bleached as whale bones

Delmarva

for H.C & N.H

 

You read murder books.

I wear sunglasses and try to stay hip.

This is first love.

We construct our days from pop songs.

We lounge at the gigolo pool

 

that’s what you call it

Oh Oooo

this portal of water on the state line,

moist and awkward, green-blue

bleeding boys with tennis ball throats.

 

We play Scrabble with your parents

every night at the motel.

The boys don’t get the message.

They’re blank tiles.

Eyes without a face.

 

They talk about high scores

about boardwalk kite fights

about runners and spoolers

about coating strings with glue and cut glass

about windfalls, trophies

 

you say “panic bells, it’s red alert.”

The boys call us bitches.

We laugh and ride the golden age carousel.

The horses have bulging necks

and eyes wild with little wars.

Damon Hubbs is the author of two chapbooks: "The Day Sharks Walk on Land" (Alien Buddha Press, 2023) and "Charm of Difference" (Back Room Poetry, forthcoming in 2024). His most recent poems can be found in Apocalypse Confidential, South Broadway Press, Yellow Mama, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, D.O.R, and Fixator Press. He lives in New England.