Noah Falck

you bring out the three ring binder in me

after Jim Daniels


the blinking check-your-engine light in me.  The fake background

in me.  The road rage in me. The Big Wheel flashback

in me.  The boring Bible stories in me.  The feta cheese

in me.  The deleted file of Internet porn in me.

The organic tomato sauce in me.  You bring out

the simultaneous fart and burp in me.  The tighty-whities

in me.  The front door nudity

in me.  The semen-stained hotel bedspread in me.

You bring out the crayon splattered coloring book

in me.  The arm pumping speedwalker in me.  The Thanksgiving

leftovers in me. The Jack-in-the-bean-stock in me. The closing copper

covered elevator door in me. You bring out the over rusted

pushmower in me.  The flat tire in me.  The pulled muscle

in me. The sweaty suggestion box in me. You bring out

the Homer Simpson in me.  The Fred Rogers

in me.  And right now, as I lean over to flip off

the bedside light you bring out the John Holmes in me.

[step back to issue 3]