laughs at impossible odds
she has a smile
that brightens
every room she
walks into
i’d do anything
to make that
woman mine
i tell her that
everyday
she responds
with every
reason why
it would
never work
i tell her i’m
the kind of
asshole that
laughs at
impossible
odds
she tells me
i’m going to
be laughing
for a long
time
i introduce her
to my friend
patience
he guides me
everyday
and one of these
days you’ll get
tired of hoping
to wait me out
——————————
when the remote control came along
i remember when
i was little i was
the one that had to
get up and change
the channel for my
grandparents and
my lazy ass father
when the remote
control came along,
my grandparents
were dead and my
father still asked
me to change the
channel for him
when i would throw
him the remote, i
usually would have
to go out and mow
the lawn, again
he would tell me
i was born to be
of service
little did he
understand
my rebellious spirit
would come along
before my teenage
years
——————————
as the sun was setting
i had a dream
the other night
that buddha was
coming down
from the cross
as i was eating
your cancer out
of your body
we drank rum
in puerto rico
as the sun was
setting
we laughed as
we butchered the
spanish language
as we were the
two white fuckers
on the dance floor
it’s the only time
i ever woke up
on a beach and
wasn’t alone
——————————
on the toilet
every time i strain
while on the toilet
i think of elvis
and how he died
and each time
i make it out
of the bathroom
alive
yet another day
i’m better than
the king
——————————
on a hot summer night
i remember years ago
walking this woman
out of a bar and kissing
her while we chatted
at her car on a hot
summer night
i asked if she wanted
to go somewhere a little
more private and she
said no
i went in for another
kiss, thinking she was
cool with right there,
but she stopped me and
got in her car and left
i saw her a couple months
later but didn’t ask her
about that night
i knew the answer
they never tell you
when you are a kid
that not all of god’s
creatures get to be
loved
they keep that myth
alive so children won’t
kill themselves at an
unacceptable age
you know that age where
hope and dreams are shit
that is still possible
J.J. Campbell
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is currently trapped in suburbia, wondering where the lonely housewives are. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Fourth & Sycamore, Horror Sleaze Trash, Under the Bleachers, The Beatnik Cowboy and Reprehensible Digest. His most recent chapbook, the taste of blood on christmas morning, was published by Analog Submission Press. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (http://evildelights.blogspot.