The Sadist
by Rp Verlaine
Neighbour’s tight smile, when he mentions his wife
or marriage, is right out of a horror film.
One can imagine he has a basement of terrors
with traps, chains, axes, and deadly saws.
The neighbour also has this habit of grimacing
and straightening his tie as if a hanging
has been mentioned when I compliment
his kid's braces, clothes, or brand new bicycle.
I really should keep our chats to sports or weather.
But he broke my lawnmower and refuses to pay.
So, I ask about college for his two not terribly
bright girls, walking away as he starts to twitch.
“You are a sadist,” my girlfriend says.
“No, I'm a man without a lawnmower.”
or marriage, is right out of a horror film.
One can imagine he has a basement of terrors
with traps, chains, axes, and deadly saws.
The neighbour also has this habit of grimacing
and straightening his tie as if a hanging
has been mentioned when I compliment
his kid's braces, clothes, or brand new bicycle.
I really should keep our chats to sports or weather.
But he broke my lawnmower and refuses to pay.
So, I ask about college for his two not terribly
bright girls, walking away as he starts to twitch.
“You are a sadist,” my girlfriend says.
“No, I'm a man without a lawnmower.”
Missing Telephone Booths
by Rp Verlaine
I used often
in my youth
to dial confidence
after changing into
my superman costume
I carried in my thoughts,
pressed into service
when I approached
girls I’d never
spoken to before, who
I sensed were ready
for my flights
of fancy.
in my youth
to dial confidence
after changing into
my superman costume
I carried in my thoughts,
pressed into service
when I approached
girls I’d never
spoken to before, who
I sensed were ready
for my flights
of fancy.