JOHN GROCHALSKI

the patriot

sleeping on the

evening subway train

his legs spread like canyons

sitting there

taking up two seats

with a t-shirt

spread over his fat belly

emblazoned with old glory

and a phrase that says

i stand for the flag

as the pregnant woman

standing over him

daydreams america

and a cure for sore feet.

the good samaritan

the sound of pre-teen boys

exchanging curses over video games

in this small kafka room

is my existential dread

in exchange for a paycheck

if i were a masochist

i’d send my sworn enemies in here

so that they could swoon over my fate

sensing my eternal damnation

he comes waddling over to me

grubby, maybe eleven years old

he opens a fresh bag of cheetos

under these fluorescent hell lights

points the tip

of its fiery orange embers my way

and says, come on, come on, bro

take as many as you want.

*******************John Grochalski, 2019

John Grochalski has been waging a one-man resistance against the orange, be-wigged man-baby occupying the White House every day since the election. This he does as the editor/publisher of 'winedrunk sidewalk: shipwrecked in trumpland'. He is a fine poet with published work all over the place. Look him up if you don't believe us.