The Bullshit Artist
The kid came down
from a fine arts school in NYC
thought he was hot shit
thought he was hot shit
“What are you trying to accomplish,
ultimately?” he asked
I bent over the wheelbarrow
and mixed in orange juice
“Why, ‘ultimately,’ Carlos?” I asked
“My name’s Elton,” he said
“Is it really?”
My hand-blender blocked
further ancillary conversation,
I needed time to formulate
an appropriate response
This procedure completed
I got out the paintbrushes
No dainty strokes here
I began slathering on
the shiny, brown slurry
starting with my head
so the excess
could travel down my body
something I learned
from the Saddhus of Calcutta
when faced with limited water
“Always start with the head, Carlos!”
I said, “But, to answer your question,”
I paused, used a practiced index finger
to wipe the slime from my lips,
“I wish to seem, that is
to appear to be making
a bold, political statement.”
“About what?” he asked
“Oh,” I said,
“anything really.”
--
Lee Came Down
“Lee! Come down please!”
Every day the woman arrives
in her best clothes
“Lee! You don’t come down
I’m not giving you this money,
don’t play with me now!”
I’ve never seen
love like this
outside of the movies
“Lee got a new girlfriend!”
someone shouts one day
“He did, huh?” she says
not believing the asshole
and she shouldn’t
Finally, Lee does come down
I see it from my window
tall, lean, and handsome
“Lee! There you are!” she says
“I don’t like you!” says Lee
in the big man’s voice
the neighbors have been hoping for
“Stop coming around here!”
“Some son you are!”
she yells, voice cracking,
“I don’t have time
for your ragged ass anyhow!”
And I stand corrected
we all do.
--
Pen and Paper
She’s sitting on the sidewalk
magic markers, an
overworked Bic
drawing spirographs
reminds me of that toy
“They attach a string to a tree,
next thing there’s a tent,
they’re like spiders,”
says the building manager
who carries a razor
when he goes out to smoke
the tents fall like souffles
like collapsed parachutes
like dead soldiers
The homeless die
for different reasons
in the meantime
the girl with pen and paper
draws pyramids,
cat’s eyes, takes notes
on the odd things emergent
from the open closet
in her head
in the end the pen and paper
are mostly there
to keep her company.
I see her and
I write it down.
I write it down.
Bio:
Jon Bennett writes and plays music in San Francisco's Tenderloin neighborhood. You can find his work on most music streaming websites. A collection of his poems is available on Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Leisure-Town-Jon-Bennett/dp/B09NRK1N79/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3LJF1VA7QW8O&keywords=jon+bennett+leisure+town+poetry.
You can connect with him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100067752415341.
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