Broccoli Bar

I don't plan to post much poetry here, but I've got nothing else at the moment. Also - this is not really one of my better poems; it's just this side of the line between embarassing and decent. but despite it's qualitatve shortcomings, I enjoy it because it's quite silly and has absolutely no basis in reality. so enjoy. or not.


Once I had a karaoke bar
and we served lots of broccoli

Moms loved us.

But the neighbors didn't.
We got lots of complaints that our customers couldn't sing
and we were breaking all the neighborhood windows and beer bottles

mostly we ignored them, unless they called the cops and
things got ugly.
that was fun.

But then there was this one lady
she wore the look of one in eternal spiritual pain
and torturing mental anguish,
and that was during the day. At night she would sit on her second-story balcony
across the way, with her head in her hands
and her long dark hair curtaining her face
and she would mourn.

No one ever knew what was wrong with her, or
why she'd chosen to live across the street from a
karaoke bar she apparently hated so much
and then one night
when the moon was full and lead-heavy
and the customers were all singing off-key
suddenly there broke into the thudding of the beat
that no one could keep time to
a wild banshee yelling cry
hurtling like a boomerang into the night sky

and outside the woman was yelling into the wind
crying and screaming and hair blowing evreywhere
"Please stop singing and let me freakin' SLEEP!"

After that, my partner Mikey said to me,
"Joe, let's pack it up and find somewhere new.
I don't like this part of town anymore."
and I said "Okay, Mikey." so we moved.

Only, a bunch of our stuff never got here, and we
got bored and decided to tour Europe with backpacks instead.

But once - once I had a karaoke bar
and we served lots of broccoli.