Poetry by KJ Hays |

Rollover Dead Call

a common place with an old coot
peddling socrates to a group of
half-soused, goggle-eyed vagrants
who want to wear temporary robes,
when the cameras blink on and off.
i have never seen scam artisans
legitimized with state budgets
until i saw this dry man
flick skin flakes on pupils
& whisper about ease.

mediocrity sells in a loop.
& when i sat there.
i cried for myself.
i cried for all of them.
i cried for the old coot.
i cried for the bathroom stalls displaying giant penis portraits.
i cried for the middle aged mother sitting behind me who knew.

i said: "present."
i smiled for the woman sitting next to me who graduated.
she waited so long to receive the receipt she bought.


KJ Hays lives in Orange County somewhere. He writes poems and reads things. Maybe one day he'll get around to having a soggy bowl of cereal. He keeps an invite only blog at: http://illegalfunk.blogspot.com/. Feel free to contact him, if you would like an invite.