Here we go! Installment two of a six part series of my recent submission to The New Yorker.
Little backstory: I was in my friend's bathroom--taking care of business--and I noticed his his stack of TNY magazines on the top of his toilet (see? you thought i was going '#2'...freak, but I digress...) and I flipped through several of them to see what kind of poetry gets printed in the almight TNY magazine.
I was...intrigued and decided, "Hey, maybe I'll give them a shot...it couldn't hurt my career to be published on a number of fronts, right?"
Story is getting too long...I'm sure you can do the math, here's the next poem, it's a jealous piece about woman's love of the alpha male:
I May Never Be Your Stanley Kowalski
I tried on the gorilla suit once,
and realized I'd never be Stanley;
all silver backed, knuckles dragging
those two capable hands he uses
on you in the middle of the night.
Stanley does what he wants to-
Aqua Velva sweaty, musk and all,
bulldozing a desirable swath
with his huge hotrod between
your creamy clenched thighs
like his brethren Tarzan and Valentino
might. Me, I'm more of a ‘Mitch'
or a ‘Jimmy Stewart'...delivered in times
when there is a God, but I just don't
cut the mustard; or maybe, just maybe,
I'm more like Blanche's first lover-
weak before he blew his brains out,
haunting you with my inability to bowl
or my daunting desire to buy you lilies;
my brains too, residing in the same lake.
© 2008 Steve Ekstrom
Causes Steven Ekstrom Supports
The HERO Initative