Pain by Cody Clarke

Pain
by Cody Clarke

Sometimes you stomp into me suddenly
slam the door
and collapse onto my stomach
to cry your eyes out

so I slump in my chair
or wherever I am
waiting
until you can stand

inheriting the pain
too big for your body
wherever you are now
in this world

Mickey Mouse by Cody Clarke

Mickey Mouse
by Cody Clarke

He occupied two seats of the subway
his ass crack resting right on the split between them
and defended the territory
of the three empty and adjacent seats
against all trying occupants
with a
You can’t sit there
and the timbre of a science teacher
on the impossibility of time travel

His feet were moldy loaves of bread
his legs I forget
and his shirt was Mickey Mouse
large and proud
partially obscured by the cardboard sign
our man wore with string
like librarian glasses
stating simply and in Sharpie
that he loved New York
in words I also forget

I only saw him for the duration of one stop
and he kept quiet except for one burp
that was sort of loud
and then as we entered the station
he got up and waited at the doors
and as they opened he laid a fart
like a bass drum distorted beyond recognition
by a Japanese noise artist
and placed on limited vinyl
to be sold to indie kids
for the price of their allowance

and the man next to me whimpered
and clutched his newly bloody chest
because the fart had had a bullet in it
and the man died before the next stop

Everyone in the subway car went to the funeral
and we all stayed in contact after
and learned sign language together at the YMCA
and helped each other further with it on weekends

and my life is better now and we’re all happier as people

Floors by Cody Clarke

Floors
by Cody Clarke

High School kids
The freaks, the hipsters
the whatever-they’re-called-now

These kids sit on floors
at concerts
on subways
in the halls
in the street
outside venues

You know this and I know this
and I do not know when this originally started

Probably not as far back as greasers
because although greasers were greasy
I can’t see greasers
huddled around each other
like some sort of 2001: A Space Odyssey
reenactment troupe

but I can see hippies and beatniks doing it
and so for the sake of this poem
we will assume that is where it originates

This poem is not about lineage though
This poem is about the subconscious

Yes, they are doing it because their friends do it
Such is obvious
but deeper than that
deeper than what they realize

Floors equal germs
germs equal colds
colds equal absences

I submit that on a subconscious level
those-who-dress-as-though
-they-would-like-to-be-beat-up
sit on floors
in order to

increase their chance of contracting illness

and thus
decrease the days they have to attend school

This is probably why they do
a lot of other stupid stuff too
with their bodies

but I will not pursue this study further

this is not a subject that interests me enough
to write more stanzas
and list more instances supporting my hypothesis

I just thought it was an interesting thought
maybe not enough for an experiment
or an essay
but enough for poetry
or a haiku:

Kids willingly sit
on ground fit for no ass
School is a prison