Falafel Ghosts

Shaun Hanson

Drip, drip went the trolley,

And all the passengers stepped out the cockroach doorway into the sinister right hallway, which swoops upon unwary umbrella infants, pacifists, and driving instructors, much like a pelican, but without the salt. Quote one to another: "I am precise and concise, and I defend my point thoroughly." And then she smiled, because her arm was in a cast.

If Superman were Jewish . . .
A red nickel stares into space, dresses.
The paper that once swaddled a danish now
Is crushed mightily
By rhythmic pulsing wheels and
Brackish hip-hop hooks.

Rank sauce fermenting on dead dinosaur brownstown steps,
Like so much B negative blood concealed in a paper bag
(The poet smiled, because his arm was not broken),
And the feast belonged to pigeons and cigarette cats,
The delicate feasting of them alone.
One must respect hallowed ground.
"Death is holy, because we make holy that which we wish to ignore."
See? Precise, concise and well-defended.

Shaun Hanson is a poet and Philolexian. His poetry last appeared in Zeek in April, 2002.

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From previous issues:

Michael Shurkin

Hyatt Regency Dead Sea Resort
Rowena Silver

Fleeing Edges
Noam Mor