In the Time of Assignments by Douglas A. Martin

Author:Douglas A. Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781593763633
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2020-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

2.

there’s a boy in the real world you don’t know

his boyfriend is in some branch of the Armed Forces,

on the cover of all the magazines

you’ve taken to flipping through,

when everything around you begins too normal seeming

(Cleveland Heights, OH)

filling a hole in America’s middle,

looking out for someone like him again next week

(Eugene, OR)

*

a TV is bound to be in all the hotels,

otherwise and best

days gone by in their double bed.

another supermodel

has pulled off the marriage feat,

on top of everything, again

go ahead—

imagine

the tabloids in the Quickie

are speaking directly to you

*

two boys with their hands caught

in the twinning and twisting

of string beans—

soft burrs suddenly brush all plush

If you followed him into the restroom,

he’d just stand there

with his hands on his hips,

like his momma taught him how to

this product placement

comes in the oddest of places,

all shapes and sizes

as we begin to do what we do

on endless loop

maybe it’s just me.

*

your youth was fast becoming the example,

the length of a road you were trying to

ride down the middle of

*

a truck morning after of debris

of hums sealing you

in

into wall pounding,

finding the self-glued

all rudely together,

reason still lagging behind horse-drawn

out past where the greener lawns go

uncoded

*

the doors swing open

his song bursts out.

you’ve ended up at the Warner Brothers store,

now offering the most expensive jelly beans

store full of screaming kids,

who all own him—

heart, soul, image

imagine,

he comes now on a backpack.

sentiment, it’s that thing again

to be embarrassed of,

it’s what melts like a lemon drop—

awkward chuckle, furtive glance,

you’ve so successfully internalized your self-questioning

again today

raining inside the sound of thunder inside the store

*

this note for naught,

night of a thousand further smothers rise up under

the buried cotton covers,

that wrecked racket of the load

he’s been carrying around

kind of sad, kind of him, when he’s kind of said

his peace

formality not your forte,

to put it mildly,

but even for the press clippings,

you won’t have it any other way

*

to perform your part as part of this underground collection,

to perform in front of a blank white screen,

pictures from the permanent archive

flower around the gallery

those gold cameras in that season,

strategically draped

*

years still cling, still mean something,

they must

in this amusing,

sustaining zeal

*

this is all part of that whirlwind

music you’ll never map

completely

try to make such a point

being so out of place,

try to let that circuit

between intellect and warmth

relay back-and-forth

*

rest assured with

the meaning of his preening,

sitting across from you

on the concrete

how the white t-shirts gleam

one after one after

the first put down on this green earth

come what may

cross the street

*

reporters covered this weekend,

Mr. Examiner, my butter-finger

hope you made note of this new small room

there’s still that sheath

far outside the borders

of a state-line

*

to stay one step ahead next time,

by looking back

everyone in this bar

looked just like everyone else in this bar

when he tried to train his eyes on me,

he was using the same good luck on everyone

we took to finding the cows

on complimentary matchbooks

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