All posts in "Max"

Midnight Ass Itch

Published August 13, 2018 in Max - 0 Comments

Midnight Ass Itch

It was a little after midnight

when it started.

First on the left cheek

on the inside of the crack.

A really inopportune time,

as he was in the middle of a date

that was going rather well, for once.

But it just kept getting worse.

He tried standing and

sitting differently.

“I have to use the little boy’s room.” Max said.

“Hurry back,” she replied,

“ I need to tell you something.”

Blowing him an air kiss.

He bit his lower lip and

practically ran to the bathroom.

The men’s room door was locked.

He couldn’t wait and

stepped into a closet,

pulled down his pants

and started itching like

a violin player.

Suddenly,

a waiter opened the closet door.

And there he was

hand in the cookie jar,

mortified,

forever frozen in time.

Piquant

Published June 22, 2018 in Max , Ophelia - 0 Comments

Piquant

When the marriage ended

Max was away writing a book about the endocrine system.

By the time he got back,

Ophelia and her mother had already packed

a massive steel shipping container full of all their stuff.

He was left with virtually nothing.

She gave him 3 forks, 3 chipped bowls,

and a set of green plates that she didn’t like.

After that, she would drop by periodically

to take something else.

Like picking treats off a carcass.

One time she showed up unannounced

and took most of the rose bush.

“I took a course in roses” she said,

“I can propagate these.”

Then she came by again

and took two huge pieces of the cactus.

“I found a great recipe.”

A third time, she went into his closet

and took all of his silk underwear

(a gift from her mother on his birthday).

“My mother needs these back.

She’s making Romulus and Remus

little outfits. You don’t mind do you?

It’s not like you ever wear them.”

Hubcap

Published June 7, 2018 in Genevieve , Max - 0 Comments

Hubcap2

It flew off the wheel

on 7th Avenue.

She was a French woman, very sweet.

It cut her rather badly.

Her shin was bleeding.

Alex, Yevgeny, and Max puled over.

Alex jumped out of the car.

“I’m so sorry!” said Alex.

“It’s not your fault.”

“What’s your name?”

“Genevieve.”

“Genevieve, you need to go to the hospital.

can we take you?”

“Yes, s’il vous plaît.” she was beginning to feel faint.

They drove like Banshees

to Saint Vincent Hospital.

“Should we wait for you?”

asked Max,

Above the Front

Published June 2, 2018 in Artificial Intelligence , Max - 0 Comments

Above the Front

Harlie, the AI was acting funny.

Like some hacker had

slipped him some digital windowpane.

You could tell by

the benignly sinister comments,

dilated pupils,

and teeth grinding.

(Teeth of solid steel, mind you.)

“What if we can’t get him back?” asked Max

“I knew this guy at boarding school,

he dropped acid and was never the same,

total psychotic break.”

“Bird flu must have been a cover,” said Harlie.

“Feed the signal” he added cryptically.

Perfect Weather

Published May 5, 2018 in Max - 0 Comments

Perfect Weather

It was.

Not too hot during the day,

and still cool at night time.

Which is the right time,

for those of you keeping track.

Max found the note in a tupperware container

that the neighbor had left out for the feral cats.

Who wrote it?

It was crumpled like it had been thrown out.

It looked like her handwriting, he thought.

Then he realized how silly that was.

If that was her intention,

she wouldn’t leave it on a crumpled piece of newsprint.

Would she?

Forget Me Not

Published April 14, 2018 in Max , Ophelia - 0 Comments

Forget Me Not

Picked this rose in remembrance of you.

And the sage flowers with a splash of blue.

For the sad I feel thinking of you.

I know it’s over, but I can’t stop wanting to be true.

To you.

I just can’t undo the years of holding and having your back.

And I can’t bear the thought of some him with you.

What’s clear is my lack of emotional maturity.

I’m a teenager again,

reverted back to a pot smoking adolescent.

Hanging on your every word and action.

Embarrassing but true.

To you.

Note to Self

Published April 6, 2018 in Max - 0 Comments

Note to Self2

“I scratched my hand picking roses for you.”

Max wrote.

It was a lie. The cat had done it.

It was also code for,

“I hurt myself trying to get over you.”

Which really felt drama queen pathetic.

It was self-inflicted,

still, he knew he was just playing a role.

And it was a mediocre performance

because he was aware that his script

lacked for something.

Suddenly it came to him,

two turntables and a microphone, that was the answer.

Code Talk

Published March 26, 2018 in Max - 0 Comments

Code Talk

Max was half asleep on the couch,

watching a rerun of the Dick Cavett Show.

A fat Orson Wells was the guest

musing about being visited by “the black dog”

Churchill’s euphemism for depression.

“Hmpf” he snorted at the tv, “What does he know?”

Petting his little black companion,

inbred and manic.

He reached down and took the rock

that it was chewing from it’s mouth.

“Not the brightest in the litter, were you?”

The pooch licked his face

and dug his head into his armpit.

Straight Butter

Published November 27, 2017 in LA Stories , Max - 0 Comments

Straight Butter

She had engraved the knife 

As a one off trial

To see how it played.

The irony was lost on her.

She’d left it behind.

Now that she was gone

And Max had the house to himself.

He could leave the dishes

And slather “happiness” 

All over his bread.

Possibility is best served toasted,

Actually.

Chips and Bitters

Published November 24, 2017 in I Don't Even Know , LA Stories , Max - 0 Comments

Chips and Bitters

I liken you to a janitor

The way you mopped

The floor with me.

Closed the door on me,

All the while

Saying you adored on me.

And I liken you to a cold syringe 

The way you needled me

Injected me

Infected me with a virus

That protected me

Until you rejected me

All the while

Peeking through 

The peephole 

Smiling on the other side

Of the door.

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