n a t e    p r i t t s

 

:Space Ship:

:The Story Youíve Been Waiting For:

:For Sale:

:The Enemy:




















:Space Ship:

 

Miles above the Earth, in our long yellow boat,
my friends & I get all weepy

about the many burger joints we canít visit back home
since we are, as I said, miles above the Earth.
"There was one that would not allow the use of ketchup,"
said my friend in green, the earnest one.
"One demanded the addition of pickles,"
said my friend in red who is always joking
in a way that makes everyone feel vague & colorless.

Space stretched out before us, infinite.  My stomach
grumbled, aching for destination.

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:The Story Youíve Been Waiting For:

 

My friends & I believe in excluding newcomers

from our secrets: secret lair, secret handshake.

We collect our own separate feelings of scorn

& rage & elitism the way other groups of friends

collect sea shells on the shore of the vast

ocean of welcome.  But we are protected, encased

in a diamond hard sense of self-worth.  Shoot

arrows at us & see if you can break through.

Secretly, itís what we most want.

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:For Sale:

 

Men with hats are taking bids on my friends.

The availability of my friend in green, the earnest one,
initiates a bidding war among only the bidders with hats & mustaches.

My friend in red, whose jokes fall flat, sold quickly
but for much less than was polite.  Slowly, the men with hats

buy up all my friends & Iím left alone on stage
with no idea how to gauge my worth.

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:The Enemy:

 

My friends & I, we have only one real enemy
but he is a flake & so we donít worry about him much.
Sometimes heíll see us walking around the mall together

& heíll come running over, his big dumb mouth opening wide.
It is hard for us to look at him; he wears a silly headband
with pictures of the moons & stars.  They donít glow

the way the real moon & stars would.  Red
always tries to say something to lighten the mood:
"Is that a moon on your head or is the angle of descent

really just a luminous good time?"  Our enemy holds up both hands,
all ten fingers spread out, & talks & talks until we are late
for the movie we were hoping to see.  This is, usually,

the extent of his villainy.  But once he smiled
when I stubbed my toe.  His intentions clear, his inner evil
showing, my friends & I have tried to avoid him ever since.

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NATE PRITTS is the author of SENSATIONAL SPECTACULAR (forthcoming, BlazeVOX) as well as several chapbooks including BIG CRISIS (Forklift), WINTER CONSTELLATIONS (horse less) & the forthcoming (SONNETS FOR THE FALL) (PARCEL). Poems have recently been published in Gulf Coast, Conduit & Court Green & online at Past Simple, Keepgoing & Bedazzler. The editor & sole shareholder of H_NGM_N, an online journal of poetry, poetics, & c., Nate lives in Natchitoches, LA.