And the time that I spent growing older
could be used to fill up what may,
in the middle of never and nowhere,
in the shadowy light of the day.
I looked around but I could not see me –
the moon she too jumped too far away.
And the praxis we know’s moving lower,
knocking at the world’s open bay.
The girl will swear you never did know her
as she bangs her head and ass on the floor
With a noise like a guitar solo in tow,
she made some hand-signs too wild to show.
And the TV shows would censure ‘n’ censor,
but the kids wish they were a product too.
They’d see themselves in a standard package
so they’d work as a pickup line on you.

Michael T. Smith is an Assistant Professor of the Polytechnic Institute at Purdue University, where he received his PhD in English. He teaches cross-disciplinary courses that blend humanities with other areas. He has published over 30 poems in the last year in over 10 different journals (including Bitterzoet Magazine, Visitant, Tau Poetry Journal, Eunoia Review, Adelaide Literary Magazine, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, and Taj Mahal Review, among others). He also has critical work recently published in Symbolism and Cinematic. He loves to travel.

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