UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
DENNIS MAHAGIN

IS THAT A PAROLEE’S NICKED GOLD ZIPPO
IN HEM OF DENIM SHIRT CUFF W/ FRESH PETROL
IN THE BIG GULP CUP-- OR CAN WE KISS & CHALK
IT UP TO PISS & VINEGAR?


Snarky cabbie in a tinted rear-view, smirking
like Jack Klugman gone on juicy chew of Red
Man, shoulder blades thinly heaving w/ wheezy
mockery-mirth, checking out my look in the goofy
ocean blue quasi-bisexual Wayfarers I wore, so
I told him then, like those other men before:

“Ain’t nobody gonna mourn
a punkish-type fellow driving so faux-
mellow like to milk the freaking meter…”

When I whipped off
those goofy ocean blue
shades, he could see right away
the mistake he’d made, since
naked eye will often show
where a man’s been, but

mine said they wouldn’t mind
traveling there again, & that’s

when snarky cabbie softly
swore, his flat right foot put
the pedal to the floor, nor
was one iota of bulbous

smirk in that mirror
anymore...

Back on my crooked
hawk nose w/ leather lanyard
went those quasi-bisexual
ocean blue shades;

taxi man’s eyes swerved
upon the ultra-bright Dannemora
thoroughfare, & all the way
into the village is where
they rightly stayed.


Dennis Mahagin's debut poetry collection,
entitled "Grand Mal", is forthcoming from
Suspect Thoughts Press. His work has appeared
in 3 A.M. Magazine, 42opus, Deep Cleveland,
FRiGG, Stirring, and Absinthe Literary
Review, among other publications. He lives
and works in Washington State.







© 2007 Underground Voices