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2 poems by J de Salvo

1/13/2014

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Picture
These Saints

That's how they find you,
These Saints

Trying to trade your Hot Wheels
for a ride to work
at a car lot in
Humpty Dumpty's Oakland

Long after you've shed 
your novelty, been
used, and flushed away
like Benny Profane's alligators

The thing about being lost, 
at least in the way I mean, here,
is that if it's a recent thing
You're not really there, yet

To be really, truly lost
is to have been lost repeatedly

At this point,
very few of us
are considered worth finding
if we ever were

And if you find that
you keep finding yourself
in this kind of situation

Chances are,
you're going to need
more than one of them

to find you
more than once, and,
How many times,
who can say? And,
I ask you:

what are the chances of that?

To be saved is not sufficient
One Savior was never, 
is still never, enough

Even the Nuns
at St. Anthony's Soup Kitchen
will admit to this

That's why you need a Saint
That's what a Saint is for



The Increasingly Excellent Taste of the Bourgeoisie

“Sometime recently
something happened...”

I find myself saying
clunkily as possible
in some tavern
on another night
of drunken prolix

“You're full of shit”
he yells
“You're full...of...shit.”

I was saying that
good taste alone
was nothing to be
proud of these days
Now that everything
is so easy to find

Poorly, I attempted to explain
to elaborate, using
an assortment of
catchphrases, like:

Cookie Cutter
Increased Memory Capacity
Faster Downloading
and “hip”, etc...

Now every time
I go to a bar
it feels like 
everyone is in costume

Rockstar Junior
over in the corner
Famous actor guy
talking to be heard

Faux-Deniro walks in
accompanied by
Keith Richards
Sid Vicious
and Tom Waits

Except, this time,
everyone is young and monied
and all their clothes
are brand new
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