Poetry: Selections from John Grochalski

down’n’out in a tv star’s bar

 

you can’t keep food down

 

and i can’t keep the venomous shit-talk 

from spewing out of my mouth

 

a couple of hours from now

in the hotel room

 

i’ll apologize over a stiff drink

 

but for right now, 

here’s everything that’s wrong with you

 

not me

you

 

yeah, i know, if we were doing me

we’d be here all night

 

down’n’out in a tv star’s bar in philadelphia

a picture of the sitcom cast smiling down on us

 

and we really tried

to make it feel right

 

tourist traps and ice cream

selfies with big smiles on our faces

 

we almost made it the week

before reality hit and life crept back in

 

now, it’s tears and food untouched

 

pushing around dollars on the bar

trying to find the cash for round three

 

soul music

and sports on big screen tvs

 

you stumbling off 

to the bathroom again

to spill your guts

 

while i sit there

fuming…

over what, i don’t even remember

 

watching a couple 

at the other end of the bar

looking through a travel guide

 

excitedly pointing out the things

they’re going to do

 

happy

smiling

 

like us almost a week ago

 

when no one had the foggiest clue

of how or when 

or who was going to strike

 

and pick the other one

apart

 

almost to the bone.

josh

 

i

ran into my old boss alice

at a meeting

 

one of those self-reflective ones

the big shots like to throw at us from time to time

 

she gave me a hug and called me josh

even though that’s not my name

 

two and a half years we worked together

…and i’m josh

 

i guess i didn’t make much of an impression

and i didn’t correct alice

 

it seemed too awkward in the moment

 

maybe alice knows a josh too

and every time she sees him

she hugs him and calls him john

 

in the meeting

they made us answer four questions

 

what do we do effortlessly?

what about us amazes other people?

what will you sacrifice for?

what makes you fearless?

 

i couldn’t come up with any anything

just sat there dumb as a rock

 

wondering how

good ol’ josh

 

would answer

something like this.

aging (gracefully?)

 

look at him

 

looking

in the bathroom mirror

 

at the drooping gut

the wrinkles

the weathered skin

 

the long gray hair

 

vacant

confused eyes

 

searching

 

trying so hard

to convince himself

 

that it’s

just a phase

 

he’s going through.

pissers at the public library

 

there they are

the same six of them

 

night after night

 

standing in a crooked line

five minutes before closing

 

lights out

bladders full

 

all moving around awkwardly

like some fucked dance troop

 

caught in the shadows of the avenue

 

freeloading men

addicted to internet porn

 

wasting every day of their lives here

 

pissing it all

away.

                                              

afternoon bath of my youth

 

twenty-three-years old

 

drinking a beer

in the bathtub

 

watching

 

her taut

soapy ass

 

sauntering down the hallway

 

to turn up

the volume

 

on her new

 

favorite

song.

John Grochalski is the author of five poetry collections and three novels. He currently lives in Brooklyn, New York.