Loner


Al Shdeed, indeed.  A guy I knew.
Indeed, I did!  Back in Junior High.
I think he was a Syrian, something like that.
No, not Assyrian.  We studied them
in Ancient History.  Though he had a big nose
like their pictures in the school books.
A real beak.  But that was no problem.
Our school was filled with Italians and Armenians.
So Al and his name and his nose didn’t stand out.
Not with guys like Shabab Shababian.  No sir,
we didn’t care that Al was an Arab.  (Truth is,
we didn’t know.) So we accepted him.  That is,
they accepted him.  They never
accepted me.





Mamma Mia


There’s a scene in “Marty” 
where  Marty whines to his mother,
I’m fat and ugly and his mother says,
you’re not ugly. She wasn’t trying
to be funny.  If she had said, You’re not fat,
that  might be funny.  But Marty’s Italian
and  to an Italian mother it’s  OK to be fat
even if you’e a little bit ugly.  And it’s OK
to be ugly, if you’re a good son.

As a matter of fact, it’s difficult
to  disappoint an Italian mother.
Unless you’re a poet.

And you write in English.





A Lovely Day in the Neighborhood

​
I’m telling one of my neighbors about
my latest worry.  That someday someone
will move next door to me and be one
of those guys who like to overdecorate
their homes for Christmas.  You know,
I tell him, with the plastic Santa Claus
and the Styrofoam snowmen—a whole
family of them—and reindeer, on the roof
probably, and lights, lots of lights, 
green lights, blue lights, orange lights,
yellow lights, all flashing, and music,
loud music, piped from the house, day and
night, you know, all the favorites— 
I saw Mama Kissing Santa Claus, the chipmunks,
Bing Crosby—and the sightseers in their 
vans and pickups, gawking, stopping, blocking
my driveway, leaving garbage. 

I stop to catch my breath and my neighbor
taps his specially blended tobacco from
his specially ordered meerschaum pipe,
puts his Mark Cross briefcase on the back
seat of his Jaguar and before he gets in
turns to me and says, listen, you want 
something to worry about?  The next time
I catch your goddam mutt taking a crap
in my wife’s prize petunias, I’m going to
punch your fucking lights out.





One Day at a Time


I say Thank G-d it’s Friday
and G-d says Why do Jews
like to leave out the vowels?
and  I say I’m not a Jew I’m a 
poet and G-d says I know that! 
but anyway ingrate why don’t 
you thank Me for Saturday through
Thursday? especially Thursday
I love Thursdays and I’m wondering
why and G-d says Look it up, Poet
and I say what are you going to 
create next? and G-d says Give me
a break, it’s still Sunday
(biblically speaking, of course)
and I say Of course and he says
besides I hate Mondays.

“Loner”  was first published in Dog River Review (Spring 1996)
​“Mamma Mia” was first published in Abbey  (199?)
“ A Lovely Day in the Neighborhood” was first published in The Plastic Tower (199?)​ ​

​© 2017 Edmund Conti