timmy neuman and the
zippo of the apocalypse
in back my mom
was listening to greensleeves
or clair de lune
or otis redding sitting
on the dock of
the bay your eyes ran
manic ovals like a
free dog in an
occupied carrier banging on
the door you said
you wanted to come
in and watch hong
kong phooey cartoons because
roger your father who
no one called father
or papa or dad
was watching the saturday
morning fishing show back
when we could only
see our favorite cartoons
one morning a week
you ran through six
inches of new snow
without your shoes again
the neumans lived two
blocks over which was
closer than two blocks
down because nobody had
fences then i noticed
as you spooned our
loveseat and i plopped
back down on the
couch that you had
a carton of pall malls
and a lighter that
could only be roger’s
and i wondered if
scatman crothers would put
on a mask and
jump out of a
random dumpster to save
you later when roger’s
show was over and
he needed to smoke
i rubbed the burn
scar on my arm
and asked if you
wanted to stay for pufnstuf
About the Author: Paul Koniecki lives and writes in Dallas, Texas. He was once chosen for the John Ashbery Home School Residency. He is the Associate Editor of Thimble Literary Journal.
More by Paul Koniecki :
today the sky is
a flag that helps everyone
Image Credit: “Ignition of a cigarette lighter” from Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain.
As It Ought To Be 
