Poetry, Writing

Selections from 'American Dreams'

By Mark Spero

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18. I have invented an app that combines LinkedIn and Tinder: love is networking. I am presenting the newest update and the whole crowd is fucking, orgasming, and yelling “We should get coffee and talk about some sort of collaborative project.”

26. I wake up hungover one morning and go to make coffee but quickly realize someone has used all the coffee, so I pull out the preloaded .22 revolver and shoot myself in the foot. The pain meds do wonders for my caffeine addiction.

33. I am so high I can’t see and a woman begins to touch me, so I say “hey, what’re you doing?” but she says “hold on, you’re going to love this part,” and I cum and do love it but years later I am still writing about it.

37. A white man carrying an AR-15 enters a movie theater and shoots everyone. When it’s over he asks “wasn’t this movie just awful?” and we all agree and go out for drinks after. I order a bloody mary. That’s a pun.

63. I wake up in a stranger’s bed and we have sex one more time, for the smell of it. I catch an Uber home and the driver asks about my night. I try to smile in that knowing way, but I don’t know, so I just cry.

127. I am in a relationship and they say they want to be open. So I open myself up. They say no, open! So I sleep with other people. They say no, open! So I open the door and leave!

132. My depression comes back in full force, but I am too tired to go get new medication. I remember my dog is also depressed so I start stealing his medication. I use it all up and my dog kills himself, but I am feeling more numb so it is okay.

148. In bed together I whisper I wanna love you the way you deserve. There is a silence as I contemplate how this makes me a super good person, but then she says that I will never be able to love her like that. I say I don’t want to hurt her. She rolls her eyes, saying at least you’re gonna try.

149. I see a photo of an explosion in a little market in some foreign country. The colorful chairs are overturned and there is blood everywhere and bodies lined up neatly in front of the shops. I do some research and discover that this open market is well reviewed on Yelp, so I plan a trip there for after the cleanup. The reviews were spot on, except the stained walls are disconcerting.

165. I take a little tour of a factory farm but get separated from my tour group. I find a group of pigs crying. I console them as they head to slaughter. I am offered the job of pig counselor and am wildly successful.

Mark Spero is a poet and musician who just finished a stint living in the mountains of rural Georgia.  He is returning to the real world soon, provided he can find a couch.  Please DM.