In Conversation

Scream for Me, Chicago! “S’up, asshole, whatcha doing September 22nd?” My brother, Steve, never calls me the Polish Hammer because he calls himself the Polish Hammer. He calls me “asshole” since that’s what our mother called me. It’s the same reason I always call Steve “asshole.” I’m certainly not going to call him the Polish …

Cicadas        1. when we were children we collected the skins left behind on the trunks of trees        2. when I was young my father called them locusts and I didn’t question him        3. they seem much louder now that summer is almost gone James Babbs has been writing for most of his life but he …

Staying Classy I called my Uncle Rich late one night from my favorite tavern in town I had to let him know they were now serving his favorite beer, Schaefer. The one beer to have when you’re having more than one. When he answered the phone I said, “Hey! I’m drinking a Schaefer tonight.” He …

Occam’s Razor I used to shave with Occam’s Razor, scraped simplicity across my stubbly cheeks each morning before I began my day as a psychoanalyst. The depressed, anxious, confused, and obsessional spewed out their stories in rich complexity. Together we waded through waves of worry, tsunamis of strife, typhoons of hopelessness and fear. My job …

THE WORLD AND HOW TO SURVIVE IT He said “Great pain brings great art” and I said “I don’t know, maybe.” But I hope not. He was a twat who talked a lot about creation but seldom created. His mom owned a small bank. I didn’t even know people owned banks. I seldom talked but …

Sex Shop Whips You should have seen the size of those suckers, they must have got a lot of lion tamers coming in. Deep down into the edible panty bowels of that basement sex shop. Run by large angry African transplants that cussed out the patrons for taking pictures. Pointing up to a sign over …

Smith Corona Light out for the territory, you said Of course both of us wanted to be Rimbaud When Harry learns to dance we’ll make amends Until then Verlaine is old. I miss you in a Jane Kenyon way. I miss you like a coal fire And a rabbit’s foot, a brilliant gazebo, melted ice, …

Out on the Streets of Hammond I’m fifty-one years old, staring down the barrel of fifty-two, and I still have no fucking idea what I wanna be when I grow up. I remember coming close to deciding about ten years ago when I was slinging funny books at The Deep. Life was good. Stress free. …

Election Year Dream Interfaith banquet mainline Protestant church listening to strangers discuss over dinner rolls and butter distressing things they heard on NPR about the big crackdown experts worried about civil rights someone mentions how nice it is to be out in public after most recent lockdown when the man on my left starts coughing …

Fun The first thing Al noticed was she ordered a shot of rotgut, then said, “Make it two. In two different shot glasses. Not a double.” Shane, the barman, said, “You’re the boss,” and went to get them. Al hollered down to her, “I like a woman with refined tastes.” “Leave me the fuck alone,” …