Scion of Suburbia by John Grochalski

when I was a kid
we were far from rich

 but we had a tight, little duplex house
and a tight, little duplex garage

 a tight, little yard
where I played all the sports
with all of the kids in the neighborhood

even though I wasn’t sure
that I liked sports

or all of the kids in the neighborhood
or tight, little yards
or tight, little duplex garages
or tight, little duplex houses

I guess I never fit in
being the scion of suburbia

I get off on letting America down

maybe that’s why I’m sitting here now
sitting here for years like this

sweating my ass off before the sun comes up
sweat smelling of vodka and wine

trying to write poems
when it’s too hot in this room to think

watching
a tight, little cockroach
climb up the wall

up toward the tight, little water damaged ceiling

that looks about ready
to call it a life
and burst its rusty water

all over this tight, little wooden floor.

John Grochalski is the author of the poetry collections, The Noose Doesn’t Get Any Looser After You Punch Out (Six Gallery Press 2008), Glass City (Low Ghost Press, 2010), In The Year of Everything Dying (Camel Saloon, 2012), Starting with the Last Name Grochalski (Coleridge Street Books, 2014), and The Philosopher’s Ship (Alien Buddha Press, 2018). He is also the author of the novels, The Librarian (Six Gallery Press 2013), and Wine Clerk (Six Gallery Press 2016).  Grochalski currently lives in Brooklyn, New York, where the garbage can smell like roses if you wish on it hard enough.