Your Life, Your Meal, and Everything

Where would we be
If I took us out of context?
Out of our normal setting…

What do you say
To the familiar waitress you see
At the grocery store…

She's awkwardly smiling
Because of a slight recognition
You say, "hello…"

Knowing full well
She barely recognizes you
"Hi," she chirps back slowly…

Her voice is different-
Different than before… different than when she asks what you're eating today,
Or how everything was…
And by 'everything' she only means your meal.
And you know that, but her voice is uplifting when she asks,
And it makes everything a tiny bit better…
And by 'everything' this time you mean your life
Which hasn't been everything you had wished it to be
But the waitress is being so very nice today,
She must realize you're having a shit day
And she is so very understanding that there's no need to let it all out on her
You know she's understanding because of that amazing tone she uses when she talks.
Refilling your coffee and asking about desert…
You answer,
"Everything is fine… Thank you."
And when you say everything back to the waitress,
You mean everything.

The voice she uses in the grocery store is less friendly and more casual.
A bit more real and down to earth
As if she had met you in a high school class that you both hated
And seeing you reminds her of this class,
Although she seems happy to see you, she is thinking about the terrible Calculus exam she failed
And you passed…
Barely, but you passed and she is proud of you for being so studious but resents you also.
This voice is bitter, like your voice is when you first enter the restaurant she works in
A voice hardened a bit by the real world
A voice that talks just fine with minor proper English issues
But is laced with thoughts of rent being due soon,
laundry having to be done so you have clean work clothes
Budgeting so that you can afford to put gas in the tank
And knowing that you might have to ask someone to help you financially
And how degrading it feels to be at the mercy of someone else
Being tormented by the fact that they help you
Because they can hold that over your head…
This voice is harsh…
and you don't like this new voice.

She's confused, you can tell this much.
And her hair is down. You've never seen it down, and you like it down but because her voice is not the one you remember from the restaurant, you convince yourself that she looks bad.

"How are you?" she asks.
"Fine, fine…" you answer, followed by a pause.
"Good."
"Yeah… I'm doing well."
"Nice… It's nice to hear that."
"Yeah. Well… How are you?"
"Oh! I'm fine… I'm good. Real good… just shopping for some food." she says with a smile.

She likes her own observation about her shopping… because it's obvious, it's funny. You smile at her. You like the joke, because it reminds you of the waitress at the restaurant, not this bitch at the grocery store who is hard and normal and not a bright ray of golden sun as she is at work.

"Ha, yeah… me too… Obviously." You joke back, with the same joke, hoping that it holds water again.
"Ha, cool… well…"
"Do you work today?" you blurt out nervously when you think she is going to leave. The beginning of the sentence being fast and loud, and the end being quick and normal volume.
"Oh!…"
[It clicks in her head that you come into her restaurant often… Now she remembers.]


"Yeah, I work at four…" she says. She speaks hesitantly still, and you realize that this is because she pondering if it is rude to tell you that she had no idea who you were until now.
"Sounds like fun," you say a little offhandedly.

Now you're a little pissed
that she's thinking about
what she is thinking about,
because you know what she is thinking about.

You knew who she was, even with her hair look dumb and down, and her not being in a uniform, and she doesn't know who you are even though you have her as your waitress at least two times a week. She knows what you drink and makes you feel like 'everything' is a bit better when she wants to know if 'everything' is ok even though your everything is your life and her everything is your meal.

"It's not bad when it's busy, you know? Gatta buy groceries somehow…" she states, very matter-of-factly.

[It clicks in your head that you're a decent tipper… You're buying the block of cheese and bag of potatoes in her cart this week]

"OK, well, maybe I'll see you later. I have to check my bank account after I leave here," you tell her, "see if I can afford coffee and pie today."

What if I was able
To put us back into context
Having me pay for your kindness …

Knowing full well
We're both humans
Both standing on our own two feet…

If we were babies,
It wouldn't matter
If I gave you a five or a single…

Because mommy would fix it
No matter what had happened
Living under her roof
asking what time dinner is…

But as adults, You have fears and worries and need someone like mommy to ask if everything is OK. As long as you tip well, and talk politely, everything will be fine. Your meal, your life, and everything.

Submission Poem

Dear Mr./Mrs./Ms. Editor:

I joined your mailing list
because I wish to be published.

This is not to say that I actually
thought that there was someone
who checked on that sort of thing.

To be honest I have no desire to
read your online magazine. . .
unless, of course
I'm in it.

This is nothing personal.

I could care less about
the literary goings on
in a city where
you live
and I have no want to visit.

I know what I'm looking for.

It's not some kid
going to grad school
writing poetry about
reading Nietzsche -
trying to be obvious - blahblah
getting acceptance letters,
blahblahblah
typing up cleaver bios
blahblahblahblah
about still working in a grocery store
blahblahblahblahblah. . .

As if working a shit job
and being a published poet a shock.

Like it shocks me,
reading the poems
that some people have also read
and consciously published.

In short,
thank you for
considering me
for publication
and picking someone else.

God knows I wouldn't have wanted
to be in this last issue
with the Nietzsche kid.

And please remove me from your mailing list.

Sincerely,
Shaun Wisniewski

Thick Accents

Her accent was as thick as country gravy but she wasn't from the states. Russian or Slavic of some sort. I was drunk, so I can't remember exactly, but she was a charmer. And pretty too. Her name was Nadia, and had short, dirty blonde hair, which I don't usually like, but it was working that night. Grey eyes, and the face of a beautifully hardened, 1920's flapper woman. She was in her early twenties at best. Long legs but was a medium height. Not too tall. Can't love a woman you have to look up to, that's what my granddad used to say, and he was right.
"I've never been . . . in a men," she said to me.
I laughed because I knew what she meant. And she laughed too, but I'm not sure why. She was trying to say she was a virgin, which I knew was bull shit. Any man with half a rod and working eyes would have gave her a shot.
"Oh yeah," I asked.
"Yes. Yes, sir," she said and laughed again, but this time, fell into me. Putting her hand on my leg and breathing alcohol ridden breath on my face. We had been at the bar for a couple hours just drinking drink after drink. And at first is was hard to understand the broken English, so I did most of the talking. She seemed to understand pretty well and was good at saying yes and no, so it went on like that for a while. For whatever reason, it was easier for me to understand the more we drank.
"That's something else," I told her.
"How do it mean, some thing else," she asked.
"I mean, it's nice."
We kept drinking til the bar closed. I was surprised she was flirting so heavy on me all night, but I suppose she didn't know many other people here. We had just met the day before through an ex-girlfriend that I'm still on good terms with. A friend of the family, somehow. I didn't ask for details. Both of the goddamn families were at this bar yesterday: my ex, her mom and dad, Nadia, her parents and her younger sister.
"Will! Will! How are you," called my ex.
We all sat and small talked for a few minutes, before I wanted to leave and get drunk at a different table when my ex asked me if I was free tomorrow. She had to work a double and Nadia would be in town for 3 more days. Blah blah, she's nice and I don't want her to be bored, blah.
"Where we going to," she asked when the bar locked it's door behind us.
"I don't give a damn," I told her.
"What house do you live," she offered.
"No house," I said, "Shit hole apartment."
It wasn't a long walk, but it was a pleasant one. She held my arm most of the way, like an old lady holds her husband when she can't find her walker. And when we got in, I did some quick cleaning. Just the big things like dishes in the bathroom with macaroni stuck to it, and a giant piece of cardboard in the living room floor that I was painting on earlier that month.
When I finished picking up the major messes I was happy to see her putting a record on the turntable. The last girl that was in my apartment that knew how to use a record player was my mother, but that's the nice thing about people from other countries: Culture.
I sat on the couch and watched her. She put on the Stones and started dancing the way girls dance when they know they're looking sexy and drunk. She made her way to the couch and I puffed out a few short laughs. She smiled. This moment was short lived.
We went to my bedroom to have sloppy sex.
"What this," she asked, crawling onto the bed.
"It's a rag," I told her.
"Why?"
"It's for clean up."
"Clean up by bed?"
"Yeah. It's a cum rag."
"I'm not knowing this," she said after a long look at it.
"You know, after sex, it's sometimes pretty messy, and it's -" and then it hit me, "Holy fuck you're actually a virgin."
She looked at me sideways, the way a dog does when you make weird noises at it.

"I'm sleeping on the couch," I said.

She was confused. Thought she did something wrong, big tears, and lots of talking I didn't understand because I only speak English. Eventually I convinced her I was sick from drinking, which was a flat out lie. "Americans are light weights - No balls," and "I'm vomiting in my mouth right now, but not because of you - glug glug vodka - beer," and things like that.

I slept on the couch but took the rag with me. Told her it was in case I threw up on the couch I can clean it. Made coffee in the morning, and served up some toast for us with jam. She seemed chipper, but I was back to square one with the language barrier and couldn't understand a goddamn thing she was telling me. It was just nice to wake up to someone who was pretty with a thick accent.

Dead Men Float

03 Oct 05 Monday

Dead men float. I drew a bath. I had high intentions: To get rid of the dirt and stink and bad memories and weird dreams and odd feelings and piss and shoe marks and scars and un-treated wounds and beard I've been growing to hide myself from the outside. I undressed and stepped into it. It was luke-warm. The hot water ran out mid way. It was slowly draining. "The drain pipes must be fucked up," I thought. No matter. I found a wash rag and stuffed it into the drain. I sat. I took it all in. I looked about and cleared my mind of bull shit. I put my head under the water, and opened my eyes. I saw my ceiling the the bathroom. It was quiet and calm. I was exposed and wet and getting colder. I re-emerged to drips and my stereo playing lightly in the background. I looked myself over a bit. A mess of hair and loose skin. I felt my face. Nothing changed. I turned over and floated as dead men do. I kept my ears above water, and imagined that I was not under water. I closed my eyes. I waited a minute, not breathing or moving, just feeling the water slowly feel like nothing on my face. I knew I was underwater, but I was trying to trick myself. "I need air," I finally thought. Then I sucked in what seemed to be a gallon of dirty water into my lungs, and I shot myself out and upward, coughing and hacking, and gasping for real air. Then I let the scene settle. I sat there, naked a crying a bit. Then smiling. I was stil alive. I wasn't smiling because I was alive, but because I had tricked myself into thinking I was above water, so much so that I took into my lungs a good ammount of water. I laid back down. Cold and Ill. Sniffing a bit from tears and a bit from my sickness. I found soap, and cleaned off the parties and nightmares and empty masturbation and hateful thoughts of humans and the drugs and drinking and self loathing selfless image of myself. I tried hard to scrub the wounds and scars, until they re-opened and then I scrubbed harder. I kept cleaning until the bath water was white from bar soap, and I could see my skin flaking off in specific areas. I was so clean, I could not wash off. The bath water was liquid soap. My eyes burned from it. My skin wrinkled and weakened. I took the wash rag out from the drain, and let the tub drain, while I laid inside. I waited until the water left and made it's last dying sounds while it was rushed into the sewers below. I stood up, and turned on the shower head. I let it blast me with cold, then hot, then cold water again. My insides shuttered and I kept my eyes closed, for fear of seeing myself in the mirror if I were to open them. I pissed all about just laughing inside of my mind. I turned the shower off and stepped out from the tub and opend my eyes. I saw myself, beard puffed out, and skin dripping and white. I smiled. Then the phone rang off the hook, and I was brought back into real life living once again. I got dressed and took a nap to try and re-live as a dead man floating. Now I'm dry as an unburried bone, waiting for the winter months to finally set it...

18 Oct 05 Tue

18 Oct 05 Tuesday

'A night quilt...' or 'Posture' Current mood:Awake on Niquil I wrote this while seeing how long I could stay awake after a triple dose of Niquil... ---------- A night Quilt. A babies raddle riddled with shapes and simitary- Part of a matyr ... for hire, of course. A million ways to end. I ended up, face down, where I began. Ill monsters staring down at me, making themselves sick from vomit, with vomit to spare. I take showers to piss upon myself with a quick clean up after being washed down the drain. "Write about rambling!," I ordered. I wait. I pause. I complied. I lie and then lay awake. Frequent is the brisk and chilly night air. This happens as smoke stacks up inside of my internal organs. [Then I say hello to the hollow piano while howls at me and I mumble back some terrible love song, or the next] I'll leave my first born to you... I'm sure He'd hate me anyways and wish to be thrown away, if in fact I made him stay. I'll soon forget and find comfort in dirty sheets and brown bedding. Sweat stains. I woke up much too late and assigned meanings to fake metaphors. I called them all by their first names. I heard insects calling my land line telephone off the hook. I wish to take advice and 'Spin Around'... I decided to dance and act in front of a crowd of angry women with big bright eyes, all ovulating at the same time. I have poor grammer, and I'm sure I spell things wrong all the time. I think it's cute. I'm sure most others would not agree. [How do you love?] My hand looks a bit too small and the plant is waving goodnight. Niquil showing signs of life where it should not be found. Eyes becoming dry and heavy from gravity, probably. A night quilt. [I'll write until you love me ] [Love me until you sleep. ] [I'll be good until you find me. ] [Find me when I'm writing. ] [I'll write until you love me... ] over and over and over and over and over and over and over again and again Offer me a drink. Something on the rocks. A shot of bottom shelf liquor, just for looks. Take advantage of me when I'm good and drunk. Please. Honest.. . Try and show me the thing that real boys tend to think of all too often. I'm stuck in this shallow corner with bad lighting during a thunder storm on X-mas eve. You're gone for the summer, you say? When will life blink? Old ghost took over the tape recorder and spoke backwords about a back woods living. I drew a bath. And a tree. and blood on lined paper... paper cuts, you know? An ugly bird yells in the distance. You told me he was singing for me. I was impressed at how gross the thought was. "They should be sleeping," I said, in rebuttle. "It's probably a god damned vampire..." I continued after a silent glare you gave to me. I was meaning to say bat, but I wasn't thinking. "I'm sorry," I finally confessed. I'm sorry I tried to stick up for myself, you know? No parents intentionally raise quitters... that's just another let down my parents have had to face. My mother hates my posture. And I told her, "Lonly is different than being alone," after she said, "No wonder you're lonely, look at the way you present yourself..."

24 weeks [part 1]

It used to be that I remembered everything
It used to be that I could be your queen
Now nothing is the way it seems

The last 6 months.

Note to self:
be careful
Be aware
Lines are blurred now when you're sober
This may be something bigger than you expect.

Anyway,
Last night
The night in June
You let her in
the side door slid quietly
Sneaking around for fun.

Tonight the wind is dark and beautiful
The sky is bright
Like a song in five-four
The rain drops crescendo
A ladies voice sings sweetly
in the corners of the room
Running your tongue over your teeth

The light switch waits to be turned on
You picture it
The new dress
The fashion show
She's concerned - conscious
Pages dampen

Cute as a button
Stiff as a board.


"Like two curious kittens
In the kitchen window
Looking out."
That's seriously what she said to me
Without moving her mouth.
And after the fireworks were done in Detroit we walked like cattle away from the park.
And the homeless man sang to us - shaking a cup full of change - "Have a heart"
He told us.

Drove to KY and almost died.


This song is called Bigfoot
It's about invisible monsters.
It's about waking up before the crow of the rooster
Because you're searching for something
And some people sing holy holy
While others dig their fingernails in deep
Mostly because it was never enough
To cut your wrist for practice
We need the attention
We never deserved.

The feeling is never mutual.
An Addiction is a promise.



The next morning I woke with a shiner on my right eye. "I guess I didn't own you," I thought to myself. I've tried countless times to blame my mistakes on my parents. You know, the way most people tend to do. It was never that bad for me growing up. I resent that. So I'll be in when the headlights on the hoods of cars are most bright. The Time of the night when you're sure everyone is sleeping, working, weeping, or keeping a secret from their lover.
I'll be in before first light.

A short list of things:

- R.I.P. Green Hornet (1996-2008)
- Had a nice 68 Schwinn for a while but it's gone now.
- Bought a new digital camera but I dropped it in a cup of ice water.
- Failed my classes for 4,000 dollars.

But Language is my long lost lover.
Fingering my forearm.
Under the covers
Crawling around my wrists
And then the rest of me
Breathes
So she starts tying herself
Tightly
As you'd expect a bracelet to do
Something to show off to your girlfriends
At a cocktail party
Prefacing the main event.
Or maybe
she's twisting
over my visible veins
Like a terrible tattoo
One you learn from

Or make the same mistake again.
Reading the words
The spelling tortures me
'I" before "E"
It teases
Receiving a tether
Compliments of the mother
Wherever she may be.

"Just tell it to my number 2!" he yelled.
"Lifeless in the old bedroom…"
The walls still stand baby blue
From the day of my birth.
The woman who brought me here
Sleeps alone at night
No man to make her his wife
Listen:
hear her weeping lowly in the kitchen
Calmly chopping vegetables
Knife in hand
Asks me nicely to set the table

Dinner is never ready.

It used to be that I remembered everything
It used to be that I could be your queen
Now nothing is the way it seems

Last Tuesday

The first phone call of the morning and the conversation that followed.
[17-03-09]

[pick up]

“Hello?”
“Hello. This is Dr. Henry Bryant’s office calling.”
“Hi.”
“Is this Shaun?”
“Yes it is.”
“Hi Shaun.”
“Hi.”
“I’m calling in regard to your outstanding balance.”
“Alright.”
[silence]
“Well I had talked to your mother a few months ago and she…”
“You talked to my mom?”
“Yes.”
“How is she doing?”
[silence]
“I’m not sure… you see, I called your mother to talk with her about the balance and she informed me that you’d be making monthly payments to us to pay off your balance.”
“Oh. Ok.”
[silence]
“Well we haven’t received any of those payments.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“You know?”
“It’s probably because she never told me that I’d be making these payments… because you called and told my mom to tell me to make payments.”
[long silence]
“Well, Shaun… this call is to inform you of that.”
“That you called my mom?”
“That we haven’t received payments.”
“I see.”
“Ok then?”
“Bryant… that’s the tooth doctor, right?”
“Umm, yes. Oral surgeon.”
“Yeah. Ok.”
[silence]
“Alright?”
“You guys sent me papers, right?”
“Yes, we sent bills to a 23784 Crossley avenue. Is that correct?”
“Yeah. I’ll get right on it then.”
“Ok, then.”
“Wonderful.”
“Ok sir- Have a nice day.”
“Thanks.”
“Buh-bye.”
“Bye”
[hang up]
[enter Laurie]
“Hey Shaun. You want coffee?”
[exit Laurie]
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Yes! …[enter Laurie] Coffee, please.”
[exit Laurie]
[silence]
[enter Laurie]
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
“How about that sun shine?”
“Yeah. How ‘bout it.”
“Sorry I didn’t bring you your coffee sooner. I didn’t want to interrupt your phone call.”
“That’s fine. No problem.”
[silence]
“You know, I’m bummed cuz it’s so beautiful out there and I’m cooped up in here until 8 tonight.”
“Yeah. Shitty.”
“You don’t use cream. Why did I put these down here?”
“I don’t know. It’s fine though. I’m not mad.”
“You know, yesterday was nice too but it’s supposed to be almost 70 today.”
“If it makes you feel better, it’s not as nice as they say it’s going to be.”
“Yeah… Not yet. [silence] Hey! You hear about Wayne yet?”
“Yeah I heard.”
“Ok, just makin’ sure.”
[silence]
“Can I order from you?”
“Yeah. Just one sec. I just had a table seat..”
[exit Laurie]
[long silence]
[enter Laurie]
“Ok. What can I get cha?”
“2 eggs over medium. Hash browns and wheat.”
“Alright.”
“Thank you.”
[exit Laurie]
[silence]
[enter Trish]
“Hey there Shaun.”
“Hey there Trish”
“More coffee?”
“Sure, Thank you.”
“Well, you’re very welcome dear.”
“So, how are you?”
“I’m good. I’m good. Did Laurie get your order?”
“Yeah. I’m taken care of.”
“Ok. Ok. Just making sure hun… Shame about Wayne, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“You heard, right?”
“Yeah. Rocky told me.”
“Ok. Let me know if you need more coffee or anything.”
“Ok, thanks.”
[exit Trish]
[long silence]
[enter Laurie]
“Here you go. Here’s breakfast.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
[exit Laurie]
[long silence]
[enter Sharon]
“Hay man.”
“Hello Sharon.”
“Ya hear ‘bout Wayne?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t that some shit?”
“Pretty sad.”
“You ain’t kidding. I waited on his ass Wednesday morning’ I think it was.”
“Yeah.”
“When’d ya hear?”
[silence]
“Friday morning, I think.”
“Friday?!”
“Yeah. I was walking in the same time as Rocky and he asked if I wanted company for breakfast. I said sure and asked if he was waiting on Wayne and that’s when he told me.”
“Well that little shit bastard didn’t tell us ‘til Sunday.”
“He probably didn’t know how to tell you girls.”
“Hay! Rocky told him Friday!”
[silence]
[enter Laurie]
“He didn’t tell us until Sunday.”
“That’s what I told ‘em.”
“Why’d he tell you Friday?”
“He probably didn’t know how to break it to you. And, maybe he was waiting until he had more information to say anything.”
“Hmmm.”
[exit Laurie]
“Ya. Maybe. You want more coffee?”
“Sure. When’s the funeral?”
“Taday! Duh?”
“Oh. I haven’t seen rocky since he told me - He didn’t know then.”
“Ya. Taday at 2.”
“Wow.”
[silence]
“You done with this?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah… I’m full thanks.”
“Yap.”
[exit Sharon]
[long silence.]