THREE POEMS by JASON MELVIN
The insatiable madness of mallards
I know, I know
Fuck the title, it sounded cool
geese
hundreds and hundreds
Ok
Maybe 30 or 40 geese
majestic creatures
I’m drawn by their beauty, their unity
there’re little green shit bumps
all over the white parking lot lines
my steps perfectly navigated
they let me sit with them
among them, part of the flock
every night as the sun sets
I barge in – they squawk
flap their wings
when I don’t leave, they ignore me
The lake must draw them here
but then, where do they go
Not every night, most nights
Ok, 4 or 5 times that one semester
They sit so still
I try to be so still
one with them, looking west
Not really a lake
We’re on campus, lake’s a ½ mile down the road
More pond, there’s a fountain in the middle
Eye-level, getting their view
Yeah, not sitting
It’s important to know what they’re looking at
Also, important not to be covered in shit
More of a tip-toed squat
My fellow students walk by, admirers
marveling at my animal prowess
Nobody’s watching, and if so
they’re just wondering
Why
As the last speck of sun
dips below the trees
they fly off as one
chasing the sun
leaving me behind
Shit on my shoes
I want to write or My shadow knows
But I can’t
The morning’s sun shines on my back
warming my neck through the living room window
There’s a shadow on the floor
I can see my pen moving in it
as I write this line
I look studious in the shadow
notebook in my lap. pen in hand
legs crossed professionally ankle on knee
The assumption would be
a man dressed in business casual
confident demeanor
obviously making money or solving
Problems
He continues to place his hand
on his chin deep in thought
He will answer all questions remarkably
The reality
cut-off sweat pants that serve as pajama bottoms
A gimmicky t-shirt that reads:
They said I could become anything
so I became sarcastic
I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet
The dog stares at me as she chews on her ball
She rolls the ball over my shadow face
as the earth’s orbit changes the angle of the sunlight
and that brilliant well-dressed man
Disappears
Playing ‘possum
Wow, he’s good
I say to my teenage daughter
as we drive by
she smiles, as I knew she would
I get the usual
what’s wrong with you
look from my wife
but I’m impressed
the dedication to craft
this is not your typical
playing ‘possum performance
sprawled on the double yellows
tongue out
moist on the blacktop
He took the time
to go the special effects route
a little blood in the whiskers
some brain matter oozing out of one ear
this was no side-of-the-road show
brave as they call it in the trade
a matador with 2-ton bulls
barreling towards him
and the stamina!
two hours later
on the way back home
and he’s still at it!
Bravo, Sir
Bravo
When Jason Melvin dies, he wants his ashes to be placed in a new bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos and resealed. Sticky googly eyes should be placed on the outside of the bag, so his grandchildren can shake and play with him. And if they open the bag at snack time, so be it.