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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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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. |
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© 2007 Underground Voices |
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