The Expurgated Catalogue of Winces
page 1
I sing you, finger of the untimely
boner standing at attention,
volunteering to answer
a problem at the chalkboard
p. 12
the spot of blood blooming
in white underwear. Something
said when the show was over
but the mic was still on—
p.13
A scission. What you said to impress
in back of Nate’s Mom’s
station wagon about what Chris said
he did with Heather in the woods.
pp. 5, 7, 14, 67
Each moment you’ve failed to hold
your bowels, eager to blurt their daily
gossip. Each snot revealing itself,
a rabbit in a magician’s hat.
pp. 11, 17, 33
I sing you, the lazy zipper
whom gravity seduces
or the hand neglects to shut,
legs spread, mouth wide open.
p. 3
The catalogue of genitalia,
left open for one’s parents
is not lost in the catalogue
of winces. The ubiquitous
p. 13
parsley between teeth, words
heard but not meant
for you, leaving their pink slip
on the monitor of your mind.
p. 17
There were places in my high school cafeteria where you could half-hide from people passing by. Once, I thought I saw a girl in my grade doing something sexual with a boy. I spread that rumor for two years.
p. 18
Once, as a freshman, I was hungover on an early Saturday morning. I woke up early, had to pee uncontrollably, so I ran to the bathroom. I peed for a long time…and woke up with a headache, minutes later, lying in a pool of blood, my pants down. I got up, and went back to bed.
p. 8
Once, when I was a little kid, I went with my family to my great uncle’s funeral. Afterward, at his apartment, I looked at the nameplate on their door and, in front of his son, put my hand over his name.
p. 16
Once, I slept with my best friend’s older brother.
p. 19
Once, I asked my neighbor how his wife was doing. “Still dead,” he replied.
p. 22
Once, I was in the kitchen of my house and felt a fit coming on. I picked up the canister of coffee and threw it against the wall. I still find black specks of Folger’s hiding in the toaster or curled against the wall.
p. 21
Once, I was talking to a friend’s father about how I wanted to do well on the LSAT so I didn’t have to go to a crappy local law school like CSU or Akron, then asked where he went. “CSU,” he replied.
p.20
Once I woke up naked
and did not know where
I was, and felt the bed
drenched in my own urine,
and I could not remember
the name of the guy
lying beside me.
Then he woke up.
p.23
What you said to toast
your best friend’s wedding:
I hope it lasts
forever and ever, the line break just so,
brown note in a shocked concerto.
p.31
The sound in the classroom
when you saw the planes
ripping into the towers and wondered
if it was a work of art.
footnote 47
Yes, the Catalogue of Winces
will amaze and terrify, will
entrance its readers, who can see
everything in its improper
p. 28
place. The future councilman’s chant,
circa 1999, at a rally against war—
Saddam, Saddam, he’s our man,
if he can’t do it, bin Laden can.
p.52
The Reply to All email:
from the looks of her
bio, she is the famous rider
who rode off in all directions.
p.55
I can’t fucking believe this,
55 and I can’t control my own Jimmie.
footnote 3
Everything, thank God,
you can’t remember, head-
gear and RecSpecs, the winces
hanging in the closet
like a half-buried mirror as you dress.
foreword
Yes, the Catalogue of Winces
asks that you follow along
with the instruction manual
located in the seat pocket in front of you
as our crew demonstrates
what to do in case of inclement winces,
how to keep your belt unfastened,
your breaths rapid and shallow,
because you’re about to experience
a little turbulence, some cabin
pressure, perhaps a rapid descent,
but if the landing gear’s stuck
in the upright position,
you might still survive.
