Charlie Parker's Garden (poetry) by Puma Perl
Red Mama (artwork/poetry) by Moctezuma Johnson
The Mob (poetry) by Doug Draime
Willie Lepers (music video) by Norman Ball
Sometimes Suicidal by Aimee DeLong
Last Night at Southport by Justin Hyde
microwave popcorn haiku by Pete Lee
Book Reviews:
Dancing on Thin Ice by George Anderson ( review by Ralph-Michael Chiaia)
92 Rapple by Lyn Lifshin
(review by Helen Peterson)10 Poems & Ampersands
by Ralph-Michael Chiaia
(review by David McLean)
Parasites
I'm driving Mollie's car. She's sitting in the back seat with her
dogs. She is my friend.
You should move back to Nashville, she says. I'm bored here.
No, I think. I veer off the interstate and stop at a red light. When
the light turns green, the car stalls. I'm not used to the stick. I
have to restart the car. It's a Honda Accord. I like the name
Accord.
What do you do for fun in New York anyways? Mollie asks.
Huh? I say. I don't want to answer because I don't have an answer.
Well? she says. I tell her I don't know.
Then you should move back, she says. It's boring here.
Then you should move, I tell her.
Where? she says. She is petting her dogs. They have ticks and parasites.
France, I tell her.
It's too far away, she says. I don't speak the language.
Don't you speak French, she says.
I took four years of French. I can only say three words. I pronounce
them incorrectly. I tell her I speak a little.
She isn't listening anymore. She is talking to her dogs that are
crawling around. They are shedding hair. The hair blows around the
car. I have dog hair in my mouth. I have ticks and parasites in my
mouth. I am a dog person but I am not a tick and parasite person.
There is a tick on Mollie's foot. I see it crawling up her foot, up
her leg. I think Mollie has other ticks and parasites she doesn't
know about. I don't tell her because she'll scream.
She tells me the dog park is ahead. She tells me to slow down. I
slow down. The car stalls.
_
I'm lying in bed. I feel an itch and I think it's a tick. I look and
there's no tick. I laugh. I taste dog hair in my mouth. I look and
there is no dog hair. I spit. I feel an ache in my stomach and think
I have parasites. Ringworm. Tapeworm. Heartworm. Heartworm is for
dogs. I drink a glass of water and try to flush the parasites out of
my body.
I roll onto my side. There's a spot on the wall. I think it's a
spider. I roll up a magazine and move towards the spot. There is no
spider. Only a speck of dust.
I laugh and think about dust mites.
_
I spend five hours on the computer. I steal some songs off the
internet and burn them onto a CD. I drive around town listening to
the CD.
I stop at the Super Wal-Mart. Its open 24 hours. I go inside.
I walk the aisles. I don't see anyone. I am alone. I look at the
CDs in the music section and try to find the songs I have already
stolen. There are thousands wrapped in cellophane. I go to the
gardening section. I see an owl. It's looking at me from the shelf.
It's fat and tall and plastic. I pick it up and hold it in my hands.
It's lighter that I thought it would be. I buy the owl. When I get
home, I hang it over the front door. I think it will scare rodents
away. Rodents breed ticks and parasites.
_
At church I stand with my family. They are singing hymns. My mom and
dad know the words. My sister knows the words. My brother and I
don't know any of the words. We laugh at everyone who is singing.
Shut-up, my sister tells my brother. She doesn't tell me anything.
She can't tell me anything. She won't tell me anything.
I laugh with my brother.
The pastor walks up to the altar. He is fat. He has always been fat.
I think of all God's starving children. I think about the fat
pastor. He is wearing a sweater. It's woven. He looks like an owl.
He is singing a hymn with everyone else who knows the words. He looks
like a singing owl. Everyone who is singing looks like a scared
rodent. I laugh. My brother laughs.
_
I'm looking for moles in the backyard. Moles and other rodents. I am
setting traps in the ground.
Do you think really you can catch them? my brother says. His arm is
broken. He cannot set any of the traps.
I tell him I'm trying to kill them.
He stares at my face.
Why? he asks.
Ticks and parasites, I yell accidentally.
He goes inside. I set a few more traps and follow him in.
I walk up stairs. I take a shower to rise off any possible parasites.
Afterwards, I get dressed and go over to the window and look out at
the backyard. I watch the traps from the window. I grin. I watch
for a while but nothing happens. Moles are nocturnal, I tell myself.
I will have to wait until later, I think.
I go back downstairs and take a nap. I keep my eyes closed. I hear
my sister. She comes in then leaves. I hear my mom and dad. They
come in and leave. I blink my eyes but keep them closed.
When I wake, I look at the ceiling. It is covered with ticks and
spiders and parasites and other insects. A millipede slinks down
towards my face. This can't be, I tell the millipede. I've set traps
and hung owls. The millipede smiles. It tells me that parasites
don't need rodents to breed and multiply. It tells me that I've only
scared away their natural enemies. It tells me that they can now
multiply freely and more rapidly.
I curse the millipede. I curse all the parasites and insects.
Careful, the millipede tells me. I curse him anyways. It lays eggs
in my eyes.
Biography
Adam's writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Underground Voices, The Corduroy Mtn., Red Fez, DOGZPLOT, Titular, Gloom Cupboard, Ducts, among other places. He is also a contributor to the Nashville Scene and the Huffington Post. He lives in Brooklyn and works in publishing. Find him here: http://adam-m.synthasite.com
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