Chris Baribeau

Cherries, Hubcaps, and Unprovoked

it's the same haircut 

as Julius Caesar. 

precious toss salad

holds attention like carpenter

bolt-laying 

iron worker 

Tied to harness  

Colleagues 

Down with the same 

 

Considered

18 months in the can 

Magicians

 never look dumber

 

Asked her for a hex

Cure 

on the daughter 

 

of the Indian kid 

 

Back in my class

before they had co-ed

 

now it's easier

to trick little 

flag wavers

 

He'd have done the same 

to me

given the chance. 

 

The five time loser

 

But I still love

Working the cougar bars.

 

-They're always 

encouraging. 

 

except 

when it comes to 

boy toys 

getting shot 

by ex-husbands 

 

-best them than me

 

fuckin shanks. 

harvest/rolo

I wanna play her like a pinball machine

set her back 

up shank 

ready to throw up 

ringing yellow and 

saffron 

 

Sky's the limit 

Nipple ding!

That bad looking, careless winner wife

Waiting patiently like a

child of obesity

someday

floors will wish you dead 

Upstanding, 

upright upon 

the puzzled face of each 

mace owner

Rape case, self-defence 

back ally mom

Frantic defender

Standing in a puddle of 

karma 

called piss

 

Rolling her eyes at me

like I took the last pancake

nightwalker's competition

The immediate and worthless

Redundant pal 

 

Couldn't stand when you piss, 

 

Knees seem too weak.

 

roofies 

All

9 for 9

 

the calls

flying in 

Asking about 

Donna-

and the 

exceptions

 

the Golf courses

Full to the mouth

 

Vinegar Grass 

soaked out

 

needs to chill 

on the balcony 

for 5

 

the sound 

of the

 last person

 

My knees turned to 9-woods-

 

Slept under the paper 

the night being warm- 

18 minutes 

at a time

Hairless Psychic

you can kneel 

you can breathe

 and still 

the fire which you piss-

Somehow warmer than most.

 

I could have stolen your 

Better laces 

hung sharper gum 

Soak bourbon in paralyzer

teeth brush in propane carbon, like 

your sisters dresser 

you keep robbing 

Five bras

to hustle off somewhere

Pawn 

ambiguous answers

Roadside, basket weaving 

Indian shit 

 

when the sprits came to me-

Lydia Lunch!

Stoned, line of sight, matching plate numbers

Could go for marshmallows. On a stick.

Empty canisters to collect 

Smoke and rancid Wellington 

twisted in the sand, 

five feet ahead 

the blades of grass

tip the blow

Heading for dunes 

with neon shacks

where nostalgia goes to die

What could make my spell bread and

progesterone woman 

Alive in the head one second 

tonight she'll be over the balcony 

 

As I was just heading out 

hearing the screams two doors down

 

which was none of my business,

except hijacking the incident

to explain here

 

without heading for that 

story telling shit

Years later, 

 

In some backwater 

Curb side chair  

Exchange fuckin war stories at 79 

Rock away with egg rolls and warm Pepsi 

The sound of the dock, 

Razor stubble

Goddamn harmonicas

 

missed too much 

once it's gone 

 

The smell, crusting your 

nose

from a Saturday razor 

flakes between

nipples 

Desperate smalltalk

with rapist undertones 

15 weeks long

 

You'll scratch your ears- 

Try reaching the skull 

to remember it 

 

Hoard disgusting used napkins 

after every meal 

 

curb-side hippies 

to patronize 

 

 "Last call! Lawn flamingo sale!"

SHORT BIO:

Chris Baribeau's stuff can be found in a few webzines, like the Cerebral Catalyst, Haggard and Halloo, and Zygote in my coffee. 

He lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia. 

C)opyright 2006 Chris Baribeau

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