McGruff, The Other Guy

by Puranjay Singh

Holy cow!

McGruff got the Other Guy

Folded and Molded

He took him for a Fly

Lemonpeas and Timegrass

McGruff touched them all

The Other guy, he just closed his eyes

He was ready for a fall

Blue eyed wonder

Dude, thats just the sky

It’ll take you some time to calm down

It’s the smoke; you’re high

Tailpiece shattered, and wings none

McGruff told him, “Thats the only one”

The Other guy closed his never eyes

“Look Ma, No Hands”

McGruff just cries

The will caught fire

And the feeling was stoned

Dizzy and Dazed

The busy bones droned

So they fell in a jumpy pile

Green tomatoes, purple bile

Look up at the orange sky

One final time and say

“Look Ma, At least we were that high!”

Suspect Zero

by Sean McGill

speechless sentinels slip “sixers” into whiskey

sours

unsuspecting uncle exits under the influence

after one

slurring speech comes surprisingly early

panicking comes part way through the hour

eccentric illusions elude others in the estab-

lishment

closing time arrives early

the alley walls dripping drooling dodging

dancing

tripping over his feet he lands on his trigger

happy hands

having problems reaching home

every street the same

can’t close eyes

is this the end

almost

obtuse omnipotents surround and oogle each

other

fights find their way furtively furiously

enamels melt everywhere eyes gaze

vicariously venting through vandals

ending?

ritualistic rhymers purvey random death

yielding to yellow consciousness

the drive turns terrible

hit a human

indecsicion

never ending nightmare

good god.

Small Talk

Stephen Boyd

Sitting with legs crossed, staring off at nothing.

Talking at two, three words a minute, perhaps.

A sigh, a twitch.

Every so often, one laughed uncomfortably

and then the other in response.

A girl walked by and I attemped a smile but

remembered I forgot how.

She gave me a glance as she breezed by

Then nothing.

People make jokes and drunkenly press

against my

arms

my chest

my face.

I struggle for breath. The smell. Oh, the smell.

This is what hell would be.

The good old days