Thursday, February 11, 2016

Jay Passer- Three Poems


first I was a barista
then a dishwasher
I started prepping
then moved up to fry cook
then I led the line
I managed a pizza joint
I dated a waitress
then I cheated on my date with
a different waitress
then the owner of the place and I 
got into a fight
the ownership split apart
and I was on my own
I played pool 
and threw darts and wondered
as the old guys from the old haunts
started to overdose and die
I walked the streets and rode the buses
I made pizza 
at a different parlor
the night sky rained all manner of pornography
cloaked in philosophy
times changed through 20 years of wear and tear
technology rebuked the old-school manner
of posting a damn letter
of apology
say to Mom
or God
maybe a best friend
say to a waitress or 2


Mark drove like Al Unser
shot pool like Minnesota Fats
eagle eye, enjoyed chewing lemons, rind and all
side of jalapeno and a wink, say you’re a child
shy and enchanted

cocaine changed all that
and when he started to smoke it
Mark took up with dimensionless whores
a master printer, he hence defied all sense of pragmatism
took the whores in till one of them
remained awake long enough
to burn down the house
he worked 20 years for

Mark was in love
but with what or whom?
he shuffled about some, gangly and rough
got in a fist fight once in a while
eye wavering, until his cue was stolen
and driver’s license expired


we played backgammon in the balcony
the windows iridescent with sleaze
the chatter of chicks just off work
being secretaries
we traded wins and losses
lined up lines and smoked incessantly
blue trails of vitriol
best friends in the iconoclasm of serfdom
me and Crazy Mike
Mike decked in pink denims stolen from
Garfield High’s lost and found
moon eyes roving, unblinking over
the underage schoolyard populace
here we are on the seamier side of Paradise
cheap pitchers of Rainier beer
and Romance
here comes Rainy
“you know my last name is Daze”
wince and ouch
in ambles Sally
the floozie with the 3-fingered left hand
who got an autograph of Patti Smith’s
tattooed to her left tit
in struts Maria
Mike woulda stuck a knife in Kevin’s abdomen for her
women like flowers 
in a garbage dump 
of requiem
it’s a long story
we never grow tired of repeating
over the balcony shadows and King Gammon


  1. All three are very good!!! I especially liked "Confessions Of A Service Bot" It held my
    attention line after line.

  2. Walking to every Beat,a poet rocks with no prefabricated emotion which exudes a quickening of life with a sense of drum roll rhythm and finely worded virtuosity.