THREE POEMS – Neil Ellman

Posted: December 2, 2011 in Fiction, Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade 

I watched as the huge balloons passed by
pumped full of helium and their own significance
Bullwinkle trying to escape its ropes
and fly where no moose had ever flown before
and then came Shrek in his polyurethane skin
filled with the self-importance of a movie star
wishing he were somewhere warm
and then Superman dodging the light posts
to avoid puncture and preserve his dignity
all a bit bored with the same old route
and annoyed at being tugged from right to left
by so many indifferent hands
past children not at all concerned that Mickey Mouse
would soon be deflated, folded and stored
in a warehouse in New Jersey
the ultimate indignity for a great balloon
and bagpipers making those wailing sounds
followed by marching bands from Midwest schools
tubas as far as the eye could see
cheerleaders glittering without a glimmer of cheer,
floats with Miss Something-or-Others waving
wanly to the waiting crowd
all wishing they were watching themselves on Channel 4
and then came Santa Claus riding to town on a flat-bed truck
perplexed that he was at the end of the line
but comforted that he would not endure another
crying child in his lap at the mall:
It was a wonderful day at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
and as I left Kung Fu Panda took a leak.    

Unspoken Love

You were not what 
I thought you were  
when I saw you on the street                                                                                     
innocent, aloof, demure,
Audrey Hepburn sexless
swan-like waif in petticoats
but then your breasts
so small
in my mouth so large
and I grew big
and you accepted me
without a word
from you or me
we spoke in groans
and gasps
you never said your name
but who you are
is what we did
unspoken love
in the backseat of a Ford.


The Queen of Fellatio

In high school
she was our best friend
one at a time
all the time
in the back seat
of my father’s car
used like her

at Coney Island
after dark
in the balcony
of Loews Kings              
anywhere dark

she made the rules
as if we could
for such a friend:
“No talking, not a word,
don’t touch my tits,
be still—
I’ll do all the work.”

Not a pretty girl.
You know the old joke:
“Put a flag over
her head
and fuck her face
for old glory,”
and we did
to our best friend.


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