Poetry: Selections from Adam Johnson

poor max

max was a science major back in the aughts

he got a job at a research company

some kind of heart valve racket

then max met sadie through its just lunch

sadie was an english major turned transaction lawyer

sadie had a gin habit that would make oliver reed

look dry by comparison

she also did a little fentanyl, not much though

and cocaine

sadie opened max's eyes (mostly grunge scene garbage that

she got nostalgic over)

she showered max with praise

she did it to feed her ego, an old story

 

well sadie got max hooked on gin and then on coke

max tumbled, feigned, went down

he started to sleep in, missed work

he got a couple DWIs

he lost his job

he lost his wits

his teeth and eyes were yellowing

his hair was falling out

his fingers smelled like stale parliaments

then he lost sadie after a big row where

she ended up with his thumb prints all over her neck

sadie got an order for protection

she knew all the lawyers and judges

max got a cheap lawyer, but lost

he couldn't contact sadie for two years

max was in bad shape

he got evicted

he was living with his parents

he put on 100 pounds and found daily congress

with his hand

he got a job at the grocery store, got fired

then he got charged with some revenge porn bullshit

after he sent sex videos of he and sadie around

to all her friends and family one night

the night he tried to kill himself with

gin martinis

now he's doing hard time

after his little plea

poor max!

Larson and the Prisoners' Mail

Prometheus Larson is not like Phineas Gage

he ain't had no rod through his dome

and such

but he has opened discretely, prisoners' mail

he didn't hound the inmates for it

not likely

they did it of their own accord, Larson reckons

 

Larson is into his lollipops

Ring ting three rings for Larson

such as I said, candies and such

smoke rings escape him, as do gin hits

falling out of fashion, and down stairs

but Larson holds on

Larson is tired

Larson is tired of living like culture is dead

 

what's this he's geezed up

from inmate 414807, a ripsnorting halographic

Larson unpacks the meaning

this one's givin' me the razz says Larson

and up tears the letter standin'

dust bits into the abyss, only

it's a paper shredder

he ain't no greenhorn reader

like I said, three rings for Larson

berris

berris worked on the dock at target

he drove the pallet jack

he had 30 minutes for lunches

he punched in and out

he wanted to die

but then at night he didn't want to anymore

once he had a couple coconut rums in him

 

he had three daughters

all of them in middle and high school

he was toughing it out

watching netflix

and hiding from everyone

scoring hits from his rum

and gambling online

 

then berris' got a wet lung

a little collapse from the inside

something small

then big

berris didn't want to go in to be seen

he didn't want the hospital bills

he toughed it out

then one day he fell in the yard

 

a neighbor found him back there

in the grass

and even though he was fully clothed

and had a sandwich by him

he was already

becoming part of the grass

starting to sink in

if you really think about it

Adam Johnson lives in Minneapolis.  His first collection of poetry, What Are You Doing Out Here Alone, Away From Everyone? is available now from HASH Press.