One for Those with No Faith
this one is for the 2nd grade teacher
that read my short story for a contest
and laughed about it
it’s for the fourth grade teacher
that said “he’s from East Rudy”
when asked why I couldn’t go
to an advanced class for gifted kids
this one is for the junior high librarian
that said I’d never read as many books
as some other kid-teacher’s pet
this one is for the freshman honors English teacher
that said I didn’t belong
and gave me a “C”
the lowest grade in her class
it’s for the high school literature teacher
that said my poetry wasn’t anything special
it’s for the high school guidance counselor
who tried not to look shocked
when I said I was applying to Northwestern University
it’s for the high school guidance counselor
who’s face said “I told you so”
when I told her
I’d bombed out of community college
this one is for the girl
that chose to date the community college president
of the young republicans club
because he had a brighter future
this one is for the girl
that told me if I lost weight
and got my teeth fixed
she would marry me
this one is for the girls
that married and divorced me
the ones that left me
for better prospects
the ones that told me
that I was a piece of shit
and flushed me away forever
this one is for the lovers
that took and took and took
and were left empty handed
with bitter tears
when I took off
this one is for the ex-girlfriend
that said that she could
write better posts on social media
than I could write poems
this one is for the all the factory workers
that have ever laughed
when they heard
that I was a poet
this one is for everyone
that ever looked past me
or looked at me with eyes
full of dancing mockery
when I was panhandling
for cheeseburgers and wine
this one is for the publishers
or contest judges
that sent my work back
with cookie cutter rejections
this one is for the government housing projects
and addictions
it’s for the alcoholism
and child abusers
it’s for the bipolar II
the ADHD
the O.D.D.
and the O.C.D.
this one is for the motherfucking anxiety
this one is for the ones
that never thought I’d live til 30
this one is for the ones who tried to dismiss me
or un-kiss me
or wished
they’d never met me
this one is to let them all know
their mothers
are still whores
and I’m still here
hanging around
writing another poem
____________
Friday Night Sirens
There’s always
something
about a payday pocket
fat with hope
that drives a man
to chasing
full moons
in midnight
dive bars
chasing
higher
highs
lower
lows
chasing
Friday night sirens
in too short skirts
with too thick thighs
chasing
comfort
in bottles
& syringes
comfort
in the arms of
& between the legs of
trains
waiting
to be derailed
chasing
powder keg lovers
that go together
like cornbread & grease
sweet on Friday nights
full of heartburn
on Saturday mornings
____________
Dan Denton is a writer, union autoworker, and scofflaw. His work has appeared in various newspapers, zines and anthologies, and his first novel $100-A-Week Motel was published last year by Punk Hostage Press. He lives in West Toledo a half block from a junkyard.