Poetry

CC photo

By

Bojana Stojcic

Dinner For Three

best friends dining breakfast leftovers

British black pudding

American baked beans, bacon and fried eggs from

countryside farms

dipping French toast into the yolk

food gets stuck in the back of their throats

a tedious repetition of ménage à trois

spinning the globe with their mouths full of

half-chewed food and cursing

dangerous countries glaring at them

a question rising like a tidal wave

where to eat out (this time)

who to fuck afterwards

somewhere far off, someone exotic

yes, we like exotic

checking out the list of the top global threats

up next

S…S…S…Serbia, no, been there

S…S…Siberia…nope, S… Syria, why the hell not

we’re mad enough

mad about the super modern research center in Damascus

and well-equipped storage facilities west of Homs

researching and storing something

an offensive to retaliate against

the suspected mass production of fog and

begin a sustained effort to make

them stop using everything banned, breathing including

today’s targets are pita bread

sprinkled with sesame seeds, spicy

chickpea salad, garlic

and lemon hummus, falafels

with fresh coriander leaves

kebab served with Aleppo pepper and

cookies filled with dates and pistachios

Big Daddy makes it abundantly clear all must go

we eat first, and discuss later

dinner goes like a bomb

can’t think on a full stomach

the world is looking at the satellite images of before and after

something turned into nothing

who wants to fuck with us now?

Bummer!

Bummer you lost touch

Bummer you know too much

Bummer I came here

Bummer I went back there

Bummer your wife’s in love

with a barman

overworked and underpaid

Bummer for you, man!

Bummer, another body without a name

Bummer, no one’s to blame

Bummer, sexual abuse in the hall of fame

Bummer, you have a black curl

Bummer, it’s a girl

Bummer, swearing goes on air, breakfast’s ready

Bummer, pharmacy and deadly viruses going steady

Bummer, I can’t say a Negro and a fag

without someone seeing red

Bummer, I call both Mom

Bummer, they came to my prom

Bummer, you’re jobless

and healthless

wifeless

homeless

lifeless

(Other than that, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln?)

Bummer! Pope Francis blesses a pedophile priest

Bummer! Tabloid journalism is a starving beast

Bummer! Sensationalism in presidential elections

Bummer! Politics is no place for political correctness

Highbrowed literary critics

buried one more poem today

out-of-touch elitists, pseudo-intellectuals

and pretentious jerks cheered YAY!!!

leaning over the coffin

Wow, what a bummer!

Bummer, fake news on a nuclear war while

I fucked myself on all fours

I need to get laid

Bummer, you’re a whore!

Bojana Stojcic

Bojana Stojcic is a teacher who writes in English, swears in Serbian and quarrels in German. She likes stream of consciousness, sarcasm, and criticism of sentimentality and society. She has published in Down in the Dirt, Visual Verse and Mojave Heart Review. You can read more of her work at Bojana’s coffee and confessions to go (https://bloggingwithbojana.com/).