At my sons concert and other poems by Justin Hyde
at my son’s concert
on a little wooden chair
next to my ex-wife
in the auditorium.
we don’t talk much
outside of co-parenting.
but i know
she recently found out
the first man
she’s had feelings for
since we split
is a down-low alcoholic
back at her place
trying to white-knuckle
the shakes.
where are you going?
you’re going to miss the start,
she jumps down my throat
a hundred decibels.
relax
i’m just taking a leak
i’ll find you a xanax while i’m out there
you need it.
she smiles
but when i come back
she’s dabbing tears from her cheek
with a purple infinity scarf.
apparently
i haven’t lost
my special talent
thumping women
square on the heart
with a perfect
turn of phrase.
i’m sorry,
i whisper in her ear.
the lights go down.
the curtain comes up.
i hold
her hand.
unknown
there is no ledge
see
she tries hopping over the guard-rail
on the top floor
of the parking ramp
i grab her waist
thin as a greyhound
the universe meets you
where you’re at
that’s the difference
between me and you
she dives under the guard-rail
i clamp my hand
around her forearm
slippery with sweat
and street
we slide the length of mississippi
locking
at her wrist.
the moneyed man
sat at our table
sat
does not do it justice
he was erect
and relaxed
at the same time
in total control
without saying a single word
everyone
even my girlfriend
was flirting with him
they couldn’t help it
his hands were the size of lobsters
he moved them just so
and smiled
everything turned to egg-yolk
i can’t say anything bad about the guy
he wasn’t conceited
or dismissive
he was just taller than me
richer than me
handsomer than me
charming
subdued
canadian accent!
cocksucker
had no flaws
all i could do
was idle roughly
like a jalopy
in his wake.
About the author:
Justin Hyde lives in Iowa. More of his work can be found here.
man i’ve been there with a guy like that aint nothing you can do
LikeLike