A Young Man’s Hopeless Hope

It’s almost as if someone made you
in a test tube after a row with 
George W. Bush
while you only argue with
that bony little street
singer you surprise in the 
bathroom mirror

what is it this time
he asks, so you reply:
well you idiot, that hangover
isn’t helping and I 
don’t even like Budweiser-
what the hell were you thinking?
let’s talk about it later
he says mournfully,
other people are waiting
for the shower

but you see him
sooner than later in 
the men’s room at
Wal-Mart and you ask
him through clenched 
teeth: why is there a
bag in my hand, filled with
beef jerky- I thought
we were vegan and 
boycotting these fat cats?
this time he replies
with true guilt, yet reminds
you that they don’t sell
tofu anywhere nearby, nor
do you have much money

by midnight you’re on the
town junnkie’s lawn blankly
staring at fireflies with
a girl you picked up at
Mernie’s; so again you 
excuse yourself and
reprimand the fellow:
I’ve told you a million times:
the next time you find
one you bring her to
a nice hotel and surprise
her with a guitar song
and half decent dining
aren’t we more than this?
he just apologizes

the next Monday morning
sprints like Jesse Owens 
but you certainly can’t
sprint like Jesse Owens
in the midst of another debate
with the poorer half of the
soft-souled moptop

why do I do what I do, you
ask.  he laughs and 
mutters, what else is 
there for you to do,
there’s nothing to say.
so you implore:
do you understand how much
we’ve yelled at people 
who have a dirty beer can
for a life?
he snickers and retorts,
well we’d just lick the beer
can clean and slice
our wrists with it

---

Lady Corruption

the terms of service are on
the back of the coupon- if they
don’t suit you I have associates who
provide a different aesthetic

you can mail order me and 
I’ll roll out of a poorly handled parcel
asking you where you keep
your liquor and if you could spare
me a Marlboro or two

I’ll sit at the foot of your bed
and write down what you look like,
save your telephone number
just in case you have feedback for
our institution

I’m not here for you to have
much fun- and if you do it ought to
be lined with guilt; otherwise
I’ll have no choice but to
bleed on your sheets

the good news is you’ll
be the one to leave- that’s the
most popular feature about this particular
offer; most of our girls
aren’t so generous 

---

Alex LeGrys is 20 years old and attends Bard College.  Her work has appeared in Apricity Press, Better than Starbucks, Fire Agate Press, Modern Literature, and the Blue Lake Review.