Wayne F. Burke

by Horror Sleaze Trash on April 20, 2017

 
Wayne F. Burke’s poetry has appeared in a variety of publications. His three poetry collections, all from Bareback Press, are WORDS THAT BURN, DICKHEAD, and KNUCKLE SANDWICHES. His chapbook PADDY WAGON is published by Epic Rites press. He lives, or tries too anyway, in the central Vermont area.
 
 
 
 
 
Dummy
 
Todd had had a couple of drinks
maybe more
and was driving his car down
a dirt road
going to do some hunting
when he saw
on the roadside
the biggest pheasant
ever
and he pulled over
trembling with excitement
loaded his rifle
his hands shaking
aimed and fired
Blam! 
A couple feathers flew up
and Todd thought
“what the fuck?”
and then he heard banging
on the car’s trunk
as a big game warden
shouted “drop the gun!”
and Todd put the rifle
aside
as the bird
stood there
staring
like a goddamn dummy.
 
 
 
 
Peace
 
a homeless man in the park
with a homeless face
and baseball cap without
designation
he tries to be my friend
but I do not respond
with enthusiasm
and when I see him on the street
he sputters “fucking asshole…
Dickhead!” and
I cross over, let it go
but later
while I sit on a bench
he approaches
and “here we go” I think
but the guy
who has a good snoot full
is friendly as a politician
after my vote
says he is happy to see me
then throws me the peace sign
as he departs.
 
 
 
 
Loony Bin
 
Jimmy lived across the street
from me
in an apartment with his
grandmother
we played together
with army men
in the driveway
and then Jimmy moved up-street
to live with his parents
in a new house
by a golf course
my grandfather drove me to his house
each Saturday
we played with his electric train set
listened to his records
in good weather played baseball
in his backyard
one afternoon
after watching Big Time Wrestling on TV
we staged a wrestling match
in his cellar
and Jimmy started to beat the shit out of me
body slams and choke holds
he was a year older
and heavier
I fought for my life
afraid he would murder me
he looked like a murderer
to me
he threw me around like a sack
and only stopped because
his mother opened the door
and called us upstairs for
a snack…
I never went back
after that
and was leery of him
though distantly friendly
in Junior High School
when his tall handsome father
dropped dead of heart attack
on the 7th green
Jimmy was sent back to his relatives
because his beautiful mother,
a schizophrenic,
was in and out of the loony bin.
 
 
 
 

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