THE SPEAK EASY

Rick Polney is not a boring man. In true Gemini fashion he is quite hard to pin down. He briefly held the title of "Idiot-Savant of Avoca, PA"; he fought in the border wars between Kazakhistan and midget Siberian bandit chieftains; worked as a mule for Don Valente of the Pittston Valente family, wrote a chap book about power naps on the Great Wall of China, and once owned a two foot long Savannah Monitor which subsequently escaped into a pool of radioactive run-off water from a nearby Fort Bragg, NC secret government weapons lab. A compulsive gambler, he routinely wagers thousand dollar blackjack hands. Currently, he is staking his sanity on hopes of getting accepted to an MFA program.

He claims no responsibility what-so-ever for the rise of "angry feminist-hooker poetry" among the prostitutes of Seoul, South Korea.

At the time of this posting, he was madly in love with his girlfriend, Shelley. Pending unwanted intervention by Korean hookers, he expects to stay that way for a long, long time.

Contact: rickyp4@hotmail.com
More information: Subverse, Inverse, Reverse, Perverse -- Rick and Co. chapbook promotional site.

A Cripple in Adult Entertainment

He rolled in
no legs
stubs for arms

an
electric wheel chair

spent all his time in the porno section
two hours at least

and I never felt more sorry
for anyone in my life

IGNORANCE IS BLISS

We are snuggling on the couch
Wearing Sweat pants, eating pizza,
and I say,
"Baby, you are like warm bacon and chocolate doughnuts"
She laughs a little and snuggles closer.
She thinks I came up with this all by myself, but
unfortunately,
I did not.
I stole it from Bukowski.
But she doesn't like Bukowski
She read his poems and she saw
gambling
And cheap booze
And cheap women,
thinks no one really lives this way
I've done this to her before,
stolen lines from other poets and used them on her
when we first met I told her she looked "As lovely as the Interzone in the morning light" ("Where's that?")
I told her I was a "follower of obsolete trades, a purveyor of undreamed dreams."
But,
She doesn't like Burroughs either. She doesn't approve of drugs or graphic sex.
I told her that I've seen attack ships on fire
She doesn't like science fiction.
So now I don't tell her when I make references to other writers and poets.
She likes Danielle Steel. She said I should read Danielle Steele. She argues for Danielle Steele.
She asks why my poetry doesn't sound like what I say to her.
She demands to know why my poetry doesn't rhyme.
We don't have those conversations tonight. Tonight is warm bacon and chocolate doughnuts and snuggling on the couch because what she doesn't know won't hurt her.
Because deep down, I'm mostly harmless.

THE ARROGANT PRICK

PART I (flash forward):

Early Morning, I-40 westbound with Albuquerque, NM in the rear view mirror.
I was passing through on my way to Las Vegas.
Came to pay respect to old memories.
I also picked up on old friend on my way through. He is sitting in my passenger's seat with a shit-eating grin. Blindly, stupidly staring at me.
I try to ignore metaphors, but this one won't leave.

PART II (the Night Before)

I bumped into an old memory named Kate and she insisted on dinner.
When Kate broke up with me three years ago, she was working at Kinko's.
Three years later, she is still working at Kinko's.
"Are you Middle-management yet?" I inquired.
"No," she says. "I am avoiding that like the plague. I'm happy where I am."
"How wonderful it must be to have freed yourself from the chains of ambition and the motivation to make something of yourself,"
That is when the remark came out. Chest-puffed out, strutting around the table, an arrogant sneer on its face.

PART II and 1/2: The Lie

"Ha-ha, just joking," Lying through my teeth.
"If you're happy, that's all that matters."
My nose grows 6' long and narrowly misses poking Kate in the eye,
but it does spill a drink on the next table.
Like a bumbling Hugh Grant, I apologize and offer to pay for the damages.
("Terribly sorry, ma'am. Please forgive me, sir. Let me pay for that. So, so terribly sorry.")
I am trying to stuff the remark back in my mouth, but to no avail. It is here and it ain't going anywhere.
Arrogance lay naked and unwashed before us, mocking. It is not pretty.
It sits at the extra chair with a stupid, wide grin on its face.
It picks up our breadsticks and chews with its mouth open.
It gargles my wine. It puts its feet up on the table, spills food, belches.
Kate and I just stare at our food, pretending.

PART III:

Dinner concludes, the remark having grated both of our nerves by picking its nose and then
eating the boogers while making sounds like "yum" and "oh, that was tasty."
We try some small talk for a few minutes in hopes of negating the remark through sheer weight of dull conversation.
Nothing that will excite, nothing that will offend.
No luck. Dinner is over.
We share one last glass of wine to soothe our nerves. A hand-shake good-bye.
"I'll email you," but she never does.

PART V:

I tried to shove the remark down a toilet in a men's room in Gallup, NM.
I almost lost it at a Denny's in Flagstaff, AZ and I tried to throw it over the edge of Hoover Dam.
But it's still with me today, making random appearances.
Me and my Arrogance, always there to ruin dinner with an old friend.