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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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JUSITN HYDE
turbo lived at the group foster home in ames. he had large orange hearing aids, his voice came like an echo through molasses. they called him turbo because every time someone flicked a lighter or struck a match he'd sprint away like a quarter horse while they all laughed. i found myself next to him on the city bus sophomore year of high school. he told me his real name was alex. said he was twenty years old and when he graduated high-school next year he was going to china to find his parents. he didn't know their names or where they lived. said he'd just start knocking on doors. his checks went for craps and blowjobs at the indian casino if i had your accent i'd probably own my own factory, henry told me at lunch break in his clipped vietnamese. i told him: look henry your english isn’t half bad on top of that you’re an intelligent guy if i were you i'd put in for that third shift supervisor position. no no, he waved me off lit another cigarette and reached his hand under the picnic table. he came up with a leaf. this is all i'm meant for, he said setting it on fire. all those faces in high-school none of them were my friends but every strange beer-bong spatula click of the spider clock my mind drifts back to that time & a somber gun barrel blue note grinds slow and sad from the gut until the egg timer embedded in my ankle runs dry and i side-arm another empty bottle into the brick wall of my basement & go back to pretending i always planned for it to be like this: thirty years old drunk broke alone on a tuesday 10:43am in des moines, iowa. Justin Hyde lives in Iowa where he works with criminals. He has a web-page here: http://www.nyqpoets.net/poet/justinhyde |
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© 2008 Underground Voices |
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