Mike Zone

Back when I used to date there was this joke…
every dinner
every night out
every workplace discussion
date, dating, dated
I tend to date women 6-10 years older, as they’re usually out of the baby making stage and used to disappointment.
But really
I just didn’t know
any better
about
menopause
along with trauma-bonding nuns
preaching stagnant death-cult morality
from the sewer they crawled out from
how sewer-holed mouths
would one day be laid bare
before the end

Cackle into the microphone
Inhaling bitch’s brew
steam from our bodies heaving within cannabis mist
you said you saw the devil in a dream
looked him in the eye
through smoke and mirror disjointed bizarro reflections
bowed before your loins
shards of glass upon the floor
grasping butterfly hands
“I believe…
I am the devil
and so are you”

Here’s a story
about the nature of evil
and the absolute goodness of god
we used to hang out downtown
hit the hobby shop for comics
get grape soda and beef jerky from the party store
bragging about
fucking
this bitch
that bitch
we were in eighth grade
listening to Nirvana
casting comic book movies
becoming comic strip gods
we didn’t have time nor the mental aptitude yet to contemplate Thomas Aquinas’ natural theology
god is everywhere
the grass, the trees, the concrete, big bang cosmic ray afterbirth and your shameful ejaculate
SIN- an action, an intent, a thought, without god
a burgundy rode up on us
laughing girls
we all would shamelessly lust over
later on
in our rooms
in the one-hundred comforts of solitude
they pretended to fight over us
asking what school we went to
if we wanted to party
did we have any beer?
laughing all the way
knowing we were too young
and embarrassed for it
we skirted their questions
gave fake names
made fun of each other
tried talking shit back
until Justin
pulled down his pants
whipped himself out
yelling
“Let’s play dick-out!”
a couple of them screamed in horror
the rest laughed
they sped off
we never saw them again
nor did we hang out with Justin again
after he put his dick through a bagel
we made our laws without god
but god was always there
who knew?
apparently, not Justin

Blood horses
mechanical gods
lightning strikes born of liquid dawn
rebirth from the crescendo of the mordant cherry blossom opera
dancing in the rain
feel the heat
of apple pie pussy
after dusk romance
run to the sea
at the ground zero of Armageddon
death bomb implosion
open your eyes

Night shift
Past midnight near the witching hour collapsing nigh dead at the door as the sun rises
I’d hear her within an hour or two
talking loud on the balcony
lamenting lost youth and cracked beauty
sometimes she’d corner me in the parking lot with a bottle of whisky as I smoked pot behind the carport
“sometimes you just have to take things like a man”
“you need to be a man about it”
“throw her down and just take her”
“I just need someone to use my body”
“I’m so lonely”
What I could I not do except not follow her into her place
the booze was expensive for her income bracket
leather face, sagging in all the right places, smelled like cancer but not quite
what did I do?
Went upstairs
there was no sex
as she undressed
three cigarettes in less than an hour and three cans of bud light with her whisky
even this was too low life for me
nude and battered she told me about the word of god
I told her I didn’t believe in god
“but you at least have a bible?”
No
“you’re fucking mean, get out of my house” she shrieked
Big black bible blues
Thank god I got out of that one
waited for the sun to go down
to be done for the day
insert myself back into the night
away from company
away from myself
loneliness
desperate yearning

Be my shadow
ignite the night
my nocturnal wanderer
in the shade of outer-space delight
tell me what dreams may come of fever pumped gasoline dream madness
a permissive ice cube of joy
forsaken
bold heat
in the realms between us
water
light
the source of all life
born of a darkness that which does not bequeath death but bestows a universe
unflinching

(contribution by Robert Ragan)

You have to sort your load on camera
don’t tell customers we’re in a pandemic
you can’t call it harassment if the weird old man gropes you
that guy with the gun tucked in his pants is just as scared as any unarmed employee
never mind he doesn’t have a holster
don’t worry about him
worry about yourself
we need documentation that you work here, even though we know you already do
the burden of proof is on you
we need documentation you own your website
there was a perusal the work is in the public domain for free
do you have permission to publish it?
It is my site, my company,
But does everyone else know? Did they provide you official documentation?
Your contracts don’t count
Your incident report of on-the-job injury doesn’t comply
We know you worked those hours on the clock
But you weren’t technically scheduled
Stop calling it “harassment and abuse” just because someone was having a bad day and wanted to fight you in the parking lot
Don’t call it a fascist coup
Don’t call it anything
You should’ve said “have a nice day”
Even though he walked toward you threateningly and flicked a cigarette at you
He swore and threatened but you shouldn’t have walked toward him and threatened him back
Before you quit
Fill out these forms
They need to be done
Corporate needs these
Yet they still have a third party send out official exit surveys
Meanwhile
A guy at amazon gets an email from his boss two doors down who got an email from district who got an urgent memo from regional who got a dead to rights message from corporate by some guy yelling with his pants down thumping his chest in the board room
the grunt running from drones races down an aisle with a black magic marker
he’s got to cross out all the offensive parts in the book you just ordered
fuck that guy

Why are my dad and I
both allegedly stoned?
arguing over the song
“Combat Rock”
Was it The Clash?
or that one band
You know?
That wasn’t The Clash?
No, I don’t know
Punk or reggae?
It’s just another Tuesday
as The Enterprise soars the space-ways
what exactly prompted this living sitcom scene?
we pop open a couple beers
ignoring the giant dead elephant
in the room

thinking of the wolf in the black church
chained just before the altar to an iron stake long ago
pounded into the wooden floor
old earth occasionally spilling
bloodied, chain collared biting
two dogs bred for fighting
yipping, snapping, gnashing
a pail of water thrown at the triad between rounds
I might be dying
just not yet…

Masks in the parking lot
car exhaust from mad shopping excursions choking the atmosphere
a bag of half-eaten fast food bakes in the heat
yes sir, Amerika’s back in full swing
no contagion here
step right up and get your realest realism
but something just isn’t right
maybe a touch of evil
under patriotic circumstances
what is the purpose of life?
“Do an inventory, rolling good times versus tumbling bad times, audit what you don’t like”
“remember it won’t work until you pay your bill.”