Sleeping Through It

 

—Poetry by Ken Tomaro, 

Cleveland, OH

—Public Domain Photos

THE SEQUEL TO ELECTRIC SEX

the Terminal Tower was lit up
in electric red
the color of a newly discovered planet
in some old sci-fi flick
I woke up ass-deep in unfinished paperwork
because someone didn’t want to do it
someone didn’t want to deal with it
someone didn’t want to accept the fact…
they are growing old
but their bones are there under the wrinkled skin
to remind them
the wind is blowing another storm in
we’ll be screwed for a couple days at least
I’ve already cancelled two appointments
in anticipation of it
as I was smoking a cigarette
a dog took his morning shit 2 feet away
as if I wasn’t even there
and I can’t shake the feeling
I’m in over my head
because someone else is in over theirs
and we are drowning in an ocean of rain,
snow, ice and red tape
wheelchairs and walkers
selling off
cleaning out
stubbornness and unflinching denial
together
the water is washing through my brain
the people in the rocky cliffs of my skull
smile and throw a wave
as I float by
I am in a state of suspended animation
nothing coming
nothing going
and the lights of the Terminal Tower
glow in electric red
and I can somehow still sleep through it 

 

 

 

 

 

SECOND CAGE ON THE LEFT

it’s a wonder I can sleep through it at all
the noise of the shower
in the neighboring apartment
running 2 or 3 times a day
afternoon or 3am
someone dropping what sounds like barbells
on the floor in the upstairs apartment
sirens wailing on their way to the hospital
2 blocks away
the flushing toilets
the airplanes landing
the shouting neighbor
the sound of a walker hitting a wooden bookcase
and on a good day
it’s a wonder I can sleep through it at all
the man next door chipping away
at the ice in his driveway
or the kids running and screaming
or the sound of trashcans rolling to the curb
or the sound of my pants scuffing along the carpet
and here I lay blissfully unaware
of any sounds other than my dreams
is that a cat meowing in my dreams
or is that 2 doors down?

 

 

 

 

CHOCOLATE SUGAR COOKIES

I put on pants
just long enough to brush 9 inches of snow
off the car
I wasn’t going anywhere and knew it
it’ll be a couple days before the roads are plowed
so there is no sense in putting an effort
maybe I’d try to move it tomorrow,
maybe not
I brushed off what I could
smoked a cigarette and
kick out a path behind the back tires
it’s a lazy day
I knew that the minute I woke up
so I made a cup of coffee
baked some chocolate sugar cookies,
the rest of the bacon
and sat in front of the TV
watching old reruns for the next 10 hours

 

 

 

 

BROTHER FROM ANOTHER DEAD MOTHER

Going back to your comment the other day about your
mind always going to the worst place…brother, you ain’t
alone in that. I don’t remember if I told you or Sean
(most days I don’t remember putting on pants) but my
sister had a stroke at the beginning of the pandemic…not
her first. While she is mobile, she’s not without problems
and now it’s an endless sea of social security paperwork,
disability, long term, short term and everything in
between that I have no clue how to fill out. I freak the
fuck out every day. I freak out when I get the sniffles,
when she gets the sniffles, if she falls, if I fall. If I sneeze
and throw my back out, if I have to scold my older sister
because she’s acting like a child I feel guilty and freak the
fuck out. I freak out waiting for my tax refund to go
through. If it’s a slow day at work I freak the fuck out
that I’ll be fired. If something comes across my desk I’ve
never done, guess what, I freak the fuck out because no
one is there to walk me through it. I freak out every day
and have done so for the last 15 years. I don’t know how
I’m still standing but I am and so are you. Sometimes
you just have to grab your nuts, squeeze real hard and
snap yourself back into reality. Cheers to us!

 

 

 

I thought they’d never end

there are days I get nothing done

that is to say
I do nothing that needs to be done

and there are days
I get a couple things done

and there are days
I get a couple things done
and feel like I’ve done nothing

and these are the days
that are the most fulfilling

___________________

Today’s LittleNip:

METAPHOR
—Ken Tomaro

you need to get past the dirty snow
to get to the green, green grass

__________________

Welcome to another new visitor to the Kitchen today! We're developing quite a Cleveland contigent! Ken Tomaro (the blue-collar poet) is a writer living in Cleveland, Ohio. His work “reflects everyday life with depression. Sometimes blunt, often dark but always grounded in reality." His full-length collection published through Alien Buddha Press [How to Tape a Snickers To The Wall (So You Can Take a Nap)] is available on Amazon. Today's poems are from his unpublished collection, The Benefits of Witch Hazel. He also has a couple more collections and chapbooks hiding in the shadows waiting to be discovered. Thanks for dropping by the Kitchen, Ken, and don’t be a stranger!

__________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

Ken Tomaro

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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