Two Poets Walk into a Bar

by Jessica Lohafer

My Sunday morning is consisting of three Advil and two Claritin. My room is in a similar state of disrepair. My friend Ben, upon seeing it last night, asked me, “Have you just given up then?” No! I’ve just been busy. Busy writing my POEM COMEBACK!!! That’s right. I’ve got tons of poems today. Anna Wolff and I participated in an Improv Comedy show last night, called Scratch Pad. While they might be a little shorter and rather unpolished, I wrote the most poems. So many.  And they are all going up here. You’re welcome.



Day 15

Denny’s is the only place
you are allowed to go
late at night
when you’re an adolescent

They used to have
a smoking section
You could sit there,
in someone else’s
den of iniquity
pretend it was yours

Day 16

The thing about writing
is that the wine gets
You tell your mom
I’m working on a short story!
What you mean to say is,
I’ve been drinking since two.

Day 17

Oh, I am telling you,
He showed up here
driving some kind of car
Ordering drinks like he
owned the place
A man with a purpose
He didn’t drink anything impressive
Fancy, with his hair done up
Never asked me my name,
but kept calling me
baby, sweetheart, darling
I didn’t serve him for two hours
He waited
Didn’t say a word to me
Not one word.

Day 18

The man that I love
drew a picture of me
the way he wanted me to look.
So I looked at the picture
and asked him,
What’s wrong with you?
I spent the last twenty five years
working on this set up.
I’m not going to backtrack
on all this progress.

Day 19

The guy who sold me the jet
didn’t ask me any questions
about my skill set.
Just handed it off,
like I was licensed and ready
and I was

Been dreaming of the open sky
since I was old enough to know
I was earthbound
I parked it behind my parents’ house,
took it with me to work sometimes
practiced take offs on my lunch breaks.

Day 20

The Southern Baptists sent me
a singing telegram
I thought it was to cheer me up
Instead, they focused on my
impending condemnation
and all the original sin
I haven’t been able to shake
I would have been more upset,
but they had such lovely harmonies

Day 21

When I was twelve years old
I saw the start of a tornado
Fixated on it, frozen
on our friend’s porch
It rolled on past us
hadn’t touched down yet
Then it turned
like a model on the catwalk
My parents hollered at me
willing me to move
I wanted to see
how it’d all play out