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Three Poems
by Bill Cassidy


Our Own Private Idaho

in 1988 everybody wanted to kiss river phoenix in 1989
i wanted to kiss winona ryder sent her a picture of my
puppy in 1998 we all smoked too much pot in 2001 i didn’t
kiss anybody in 2006 i had 1 friend and she had bloodshot
eyes and pussy cats and migrated to la interns a talk show
host, thought my name was phil 4 months. you don’t answer
the bird chirping your middle name. you hate your middle
name reminds you of pointless things, vitamins, kept coffee
cans. and when you start a letter you say hey or dear and
when you walk you walk so slow. you read slow. don’t dance.
in tompkins sq we both read nausea by sartre and hated it,
then loved it, thought it was alright, had it’s moments, then
loved it, pretty interesting stuff. yesterday felt elderly. when
i picked out a sweater to wear i found a sweatshirt of yours.
it didn’t smell like you i wore it all day, slept in it, will wear
it today. it’s no ones fault, this isn’t saturday night.


One Foot Over One Foot And Repeating This

suitably everyone would be giving each other head nods,
if it was everyone’s bday. but the people are on leashes.
not allowed to retrieve their mail or eat when we want to.
yesterday browsing sneakers i mimicked a british accent.
a lady thought i was a frenchman and i told her i was from
paris. she said i had an uncanny resemblance to her son
mitchell who works with water and has a wife. you didn’t
know whether to say that last month gyrated by or that it
was like jumping on a trampoline. a wet week ahead you
said when someone wondered about it looking like rain. but
it didn’t rain and still hasn’t rained. a man in a sweater vest
is talking to his hands about stocks, a cab driver is reading
the bible, reminding himself not to be negative. honking horns.
some people can throw a baseball 100mph. you asked me
why i had a clothespin on the cuff of my pants. to hold the
fold? you took out a pair of scissors and started cutting my hair.

Ollie Ollie Oxen Free

so many ideas start with a tree-lined street, walking down a street
the moon being something more than just a moon. hating the winter
loving july, snow pretty the first time it falls. and you can be dumb,
dress bad and still find a lover. you can learn to drive stick,
drive somewhere drivable. you can do somersaults have guests
drop by for dinner. can look down between your legs. so many
times i wake up in 6 hours. go to work, tuck in shirts, say how ya
all doin’s, nice weekends, holiday, piss the same piss you piss, cut
off your nose, little noogies, feed it to cattle and feel you up. he comes
over unannounced tells you he loves you more than ever. moon-
lighting extravaganza, no picnic basket. he pushes you to the pavement
you cheated his heart, leaderoner . you don’t bleed or cry, he doesn’t
bleed or cry. miles upon miles things aren’t happening. even you,
rubbing alcohol and qtips. me, broke. him walking with his hands
in coat pockets thinking about his mother. the way she used to bring
him food and he thought it was poisoned, fasting for 3 weeks when he
was 12. trying to save the world by hiding in weeds. sunbathing.