SWEET SURRENDER

Zach by Scott Merrill thank you, zach   This kid, 22 or so,  tanned face, styled wavy brown hair,  he sez: hi I’m zach and I’ll be your server, can i get you all started with drinks? inside I’m groaning.  the night goes okay for a while other than my brother’s sitting across from me is like walking on explosive eggshells but he’s being good for some reason so I think all's safe. But this, let’s go out to eat at this expensive restaurant for our stepfather’s 72’d with his bigoted relatives from jersey in tow who I’ve never met, trumpers through and through,  all while the jews  are without a doubt killing palestinians as they wait for a cup of rice and the ICE meatheads are throwing people in vans and shooting people in the streets... But there I am. Part of the well fed herd while the bone in the rib-eye steaks are joked about because they look like tomahawks and where’s my sense of humor?;  I could no doubt use it by the time my chicken peca...

DEAR LANDLORD by Phil Hart  My new landlord is a sexy Little fuck one of those innocent Wide-eyed blond faces that fools Everyone all the live long day So everyone forgets he's a fuck Of a landlord where even there He plays the “oh my really?” card So bad I wanna slap him around. Checking up on him I found it- His photo online in jeans easy Shirt easy pose slight smile leaning Against a door jam bulge tastefully Showing- that come hither look In blue eyes not really behind wisp Of new beard always suggesting Easy nakedness just shave it off In five four three two one tada. And did I mention his name I think Not, well here it is and yes it's JOSH and no I'm not kidding blowme Josh my landlord or fuckme Josh my Landlord or time to pay your rent With your mouth Josh my landlord Or spank my cute landlord ass Josh Oh did I mention Josh sells real estate And handles 30 million dollar Transactions? no I guess I left that out. Time to string Josh up by the ankles Time to correct ...

WRITING by Phil Hart he sat down to write and couldn't think of a fucking thing, not a fucking thing except the old stuff he already wrote about and sure he wanted to write about that stuff again but he already did like how many times can you write about the dismal time you hate fucked or the time you betrayed the fuck out of friends or turned a blind eye to love or got fucked when you were just an innocent child... yeah sure before before it gets old to everyone except you- yeah yeah I got the answer- infinity. There, you got it. You can do it again and again and again again again again again again the layers are all there waiting to be peeled Back like the way she looked in her eyes that moment when she recognized that cock Of yours stabbing her was really meant to kill her and the pleasure of sex was just a byproduct, you know the look the terror flickering out the hope of a love-making forever-after when two people suddenly know it's all the fucking competition they can han...

A Schopenhauer Moment by Scott Merrill How do we do it? How does anyone do it? This guy at the convenience store every day same words without even looking up 'hi sir how are you? Goodbye sir.' Have a good day sir.' nice enough guy I think, but Swear to God there are people out there who say this is just the way it is, the assholes, what're you gonna do, it is what it is, shit happens watcha gonna do and that's just life. T hings aren't so bad. But things are actually so much worse than what most of us know how to talk about these days. There has to be a forgetting a way to corale all the stupidity and cruelty and caring and fuck it to death. But then what? We wait for the next orgasm, the next paycheck, the next sentimental quirky stupid ragebaiting whatever moment to post dreaming of a quiet place in the desert where we can get right. I'm really not trying to be miserable. Thank you very much.

  BECKY by Phil Hart They all remembered her after. Her always smiling face and cheerful Disposition contagious laugh Good humor and waitressing Skills that made a grilled cheese I dunno, really really-special. So now she's gone- dead buried dirt covered mound up in the cemetery three plastic roses from her kitchen table stuck in the ground faded from 21 mother's days ago when her queer son Charley came home to die from cock injected virus and stopped along the way to get a mother's day cake for Becky and stuck the plastic flowers in it for fun- a joke between them. Charley's buried out there too nobody remembers him the way they do Becky the cheerful constant waitress balancing those plates taking orders for hash browns and eggs over easy sunny side up scrambled and lighting up everyone's breakfast lunch sometimes dinner and special parties. Yes, she walked to work, no car every friday putting another check in the mail to the hospital for Charley's bill that w...

  MY FRONT PORCH by Phil Hart  Two old wooden school chairs someone tossed in the dumpster One old stuffed recliner from a friend taken apart piled in a corner An old stuffed rocking chair I inherited from a dead friend A torn bag of peat moss that my brother brought me by mistake Some old plastic pots flowers came in for the little flower garden Long strips of molding from some project that no one ever started A few long thin boards from another project no one remembers One strip of chrome off a Mercury Grand Marquis right rear One canvas director's style chair with rotten canvas ripping Buckets of sand salt ice melt more sand more calcium chloride One big scoop silver snow shovel on a short handle One small hole scoop gardening shovel on a long handle One usable rocking uncomfortable chair One grecian style two foot high pedestal for mail packages One split from freezing long garden hose I forget. There was more. The trash guy came and hauled it all away. All of it. I think....