Abram VALDEZ
Ode to Frankenstein
Talking to you is as hard as trying
to hold a switchblade and a silver dollar
in the same hand. Listening is easier.
You say, You're my kiddo. I say, Bien.
You laugh, and I imagine it's the same sound
a scarecrow would make if a murder of crows
started necking at its feet. You say,
I've been to every bar in the world
and they all know me by a different name.
At Trader Vick's, they call me Karloff.
I'm Talbot at The Last Supper.
The barflies at Blind Dick know me as Rabbit.
You tell a story of a night without chasers
when Himilayan sherpas invented a drink
called the Barefoot Yeti made exclusively
for five-foot dynamos who can dance a salsa
like nobody's business. You say the last time
you danced like that Wolfman, Mummy
and Bela himself joined you in a conga line,
that after two drinks, Bela forgot his Spanish
and the other two were pawing at each other.
It must have been some ride home, I say.
You reply, except for the crying, it was
as quiet as a bathroom in the UN.
BLEMISHES
Between the moon and knives are inscriptions
so pronounced babies smell them and wail.
They are smothered under sleeping elephants.
They lie inside bellies of beached, sperm whales
as people pack the pods' guts with dynamite.
Noisy corpses toss and turn in worn pock marks.
There are two men who are as delicate
as spiderwebs. They have never once met.
One lives in a one-bedroom apartment.
He studies ants on his blinds when the day's late.
His hands hurt so much, he wears a catcher's mit.
He uses a straw to down a dark pint.
The other man lives in the flat above.
The neighbors complain he walks about nude.
They hear his footseps and think he dances
naked. He's really cooking a quiche for five.
Inside his trunk is a swelling in the node.
His living room and loft are bound in fences.
The men will never meet. One will die
wearing only a belt. The other sits
with his catcher's mit and a punter's helmet
to keep out the cold. The building crumbles
years later; a monument is erected.
It takes a monocle to read the inscription.