Simeon Berry
from Fingerling Lakes



The scuffed graffiti’d space

reeks like a vampire’s armpit


amaretto sweated out

into powdered velvet


but we drove

two hours to get here


and my third


woozy screwdriver

only cost $3


The frontman

has too pretty a chin


to be singing

about a river of puke


but Jay loves the band’s zine


its rants about spigots

of insurance blood


and suburban husbands

cinching their ties


around the necks

of their blown-out wives


But his parents

are gentle


and always lay out

whole-grain crackers


and the orange camouflage

of Colby Jack


He jostles against

the other shaven people


in the pit


and lurches near a petite girl


with a razor cut


that makes her look



He spends more time

ripping his jeans


than wondering why

I like rhombuses more


than parallelograms


I want a comfy

shirt that smells like


my 4th grade rabbit


For Mom to focus

on something other


than Biblical antagonists


I’d like Dad to stop

worshiping the angry


grass astronauts

hitting each


other every

Sunday afternoon


To come back

from the 7th dimension


of weak beer

and shadowy bankers


The spasming bassist

is giving me a headache


and the acid

in the orange juice


stings where I bit my tongue


The nine-minute song

bleeds into ten