Poems | Andrew Patterson | The Hypocrite Reader

Andrew Patterson


ISSUE 43 | BAR | AUG 2014

I was saving a receipt
when the French made history

I must have been out parking the car
when the heat set in

and when the world discovered turning
for the third time and all the fish fell to land
recall that I was in the mountains
underdressed, with my thighs around my hands

I was standing in line
when martial law was declared

flexing an ice cube tray
as the disenfranchised made their way westward en masse

distracted by the minutiae of my face
I was lost in a mirror
on the last day of Spring

If you remember anything about me remember
that when the revolutionaries came
with their sharpened jawline lingo
and let themselves in

I was down on my knees
looking for a pin

Line Of Work
Strikebreakers have mouths to feed
and policemen are doubtless unfamiliar
with the tedium of state made lit

there are hard lines stamped
in the outskirts

desires drawn out in the city

But you

I can’t believe you let that
job take you again



Buyer's Remorse Remorse
Christine made me regret purchasing what I thought
was to become my defining feature.

I needed to destroy it now. Somehow go back
and unjoke the cashier, unstroll the boulevard;

get back to my frugal and disappointed self
who clung tight to the false memory

of having once travelled lightly.



Ear Complaint, Uneven
The barroom,
Dec. 7th:

I stand myself

too still

dispirited by the thought

the most shocking thing
I will ever say (and truly
mean) is

that I don't like Neil
Young that much.


Possible Ending

I am
bad at that