2 poem by Tex Gresham

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dental pick

i’ve used dental picks more often
to clean out spent weed from my pipe than
to clean junk from between my mostly rotten teeth
at the end of the day i’m too high to remember to floss
i’m not in any pain
it’s a good inside joke between myself and myself
that every time i go to smoke and clean out the pipe
with one of those dental picks
i realize i’ve used them more often
to clean out spent weed from my pipe than
to clean junk from between my mostly rotten teeth
ha ha ha
yeah

 

 

both ways

i feel an immense connection to the world right now
in this exact fucking moment
i love it
it’s a pulling in my chest, a cord connected
to everyone i know and those who know me
i feel grateful though i am so distanced from each
it’s a connection, like a call i wished someone would make
the phone in my heart answering, starting that connection
i want to hug people
i want to laugh until i cry with people
and i know like all calls this connection will end
like kind of how i don’t call my dad often
and he doesn’t call me often
but we talk and i love it when we do
we say this thing––
“you know the phone works both ways, right?”
and that’s how i feel about this connection i have to the world
it works both ways
and i feel it now
it has come to me
so when it’s gone i have to be willing
to send out a connection to someone like me
maybe my dad.

 


Tex Gresham is the author of Heck, Texas (coming Sept 2020 from Atlatl Press). He has other work online and almost never posts on Twitter as @thatsqueakypig. He lives in Las Vegas. www.squeakypig.com

“lady at the mailbox” by Tex Gresham

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she used a knife to break into the mailroom
she didn’t have her key
she was on the phone, laughing
her daughter and son, on bikes
they cried at the door because they couldn’t come in
i stood thirteen feet away from them, mask on my face
she used a knife to break into her mailbox
she still didn’t have her key
she pulled out an envelope
she screamed “we got our check. let’s go cash the motherfucker.”
she left the mailroom
i made sure our distance was always thirteen feet
her daughter took off on her bike, rolled into the parking lot
a car slammed on its brakes
she screamed “ay! ay!” at her daughter
her son rode in front of her, pedaled away down the sidewalk
she screamed “ay! we’re going the other way.”
her son didn’t stop
she said “okay. let’s go that way then.”
more to herself than anyone.
she laughed on the phone, followed her son
her daughter went the other way, still in the little street that goes through our apartment complex
a car slammed on its brakes
i checked my mail and got a package from my mom
two shirts and a credit card
they keep mailing the credit card to my parents’ house
before i left the mailroom i noticed she left her box open because she didn’t have a key to lock it
the mailperson will do it tomorrow
i’m glad i left the house today

 

Tex Gresham is the author of Heck, Texas (coming Sept 2020 from Atlatl Press). He has other work online and almost never posts on Twitter as @thatsqueakypig. He lives in Las Vegas. www.squeakypig.com