2 poems
by Rax King
Rax King is a dog-loving, hedgehog-mothering, beer-swilling, gay and disabled sumbitch who occasionally writes poetry and works as assistant editor for Sundress Publications. She is the author of the collection The People's Elbow: Thirty Recitatives on Rape and Wrestling (Ursus Americanus, 2018). She's a 2018 Best of the Net nominee whose work has appeared in Barrelhouse, Dream Pop, and FIVE:2:ONE.
Things I can easily imagine Elon Musk doing
-
Internally critiquing the performances of the other guys in his Improv Over 40 workshop with great viciousness, but then totally choking when it’s his turn to do a scene with Rhonda from Toluca Lake
-
Researching the relative merits of Rogaine vs. Propecia in an incognito window
-
Buying a $75 hair straightener from a mall kiosk and then getting it home and scolding himself for buying yet another thing he doesn’t need from a mall kiosk
-
Bringing a 30-rack of Natty Ice to befriend the undergrads during homecoming weekend at his alma mater every single year
-
Singing along extra-loud to the “I’m a joker, I’m a toker, I’m a midnight smoker” line in that one goofy Steve Miller Band song
-
Subtly flexing his arm anytime a woman touches it for any reason
-
In the course of an hour, without realizing it, opening 17 tabs of Wikipedia articles about women being kidnapped, tortured, or murdered
-
Saying “earn this dollar” to a stripper while holding it just out of her reach in what he imagines is a flirtatious way
-
Eating peanut butter out of the jar while sitting on the toilet and reading his 401k statement
-
Losing a drunken fistfight in the Las Vegas Morimoto
-
Saying “I’m sorry, I just can’t taste the saffron. I need to be able to taste the saffron” to his server while sending his risotto back to the kitchen and then saying “see, that’s better” when she brings back the same risotto, untouched, and he tastes it
Love song for Dick Wolf
I prefer
that I don’t know
what you look like
because you are,
therefore, beautiful. These
are not their stories,
but mine: did you know
that when men
have given me drugs, it’s because
they’ve needed to force
something into
me? Is this what
you’re tired of,
from women? Forgive
my troubled
everything. Kiss the knuckles
that would’ve gone raw
if I’d dared to punch back.