Two Poems
05/28/20
José Olivarez
it’s only day whatever of the quarantine & i’m already daydreaming of robbing rich people
i would like to punch jeff bezos in his stupid face
& i would like health care in case my hand bruises
& i would like to live long enough to hug my friends.
to kiss my mom & dad on their foreheads
& not worry about infecting them. i would like to live
long enough to punch jeff bezos in his stupid face again.
is it stupid? stupid or not, i would like to punch it.
*
what does that solve, you could ask. this isn’t a good poem,
you could say. & you’re right. it’s not a good poem. i don’t
have healthcare. i don’t have healthcare. i don’t have healthcare.
there’s no way to make that pretty.
*
but let me try:
when sirens brush by our block,
i see cardinals & bluejays brawling.
their feathers tickle our buildings. all i hope
is the ambulance leaves before my magic trick
unfeathers itself and the sirens become sirens become sirens.
*
if we stole a billion dollars from jeff bezos,
he wouldn’t even notice, so let’s steal more.
*
when sirens brush by our block,
i don’t see birds. i see bills. bills & coffins.
& when i see coffins, i see all the debt
that can’t be buried with me. how even in death
my name will be a worm in an accountant’s spreadsheet.
quarantine love poem feat. Ghost The Direwolf
here, with only time & our dirty clothes
overflowing in the hamper & dishes dipped
in tomato sauce. delicious, but that was
two days ago & my gym shoes stacked neat
unless i forget or i’m tired & love is nice
when it’s a weekend & better
when there’s a door & best when there’s a bar
full of homies. here, with nowhere to hide the dirt
under our nails & did i mention those un-cute odors.
burps farts morning breath & no cats
for us to cuddle & no babies sharing
our faces & no tether but choice. here, with
all our made-up love. a stuffed Ghost The Direwolf,
which you love because after you woke up from surgery
dizzy with pain, Ghost was there to remind you
of family. & i love Ghost because when i was gone
& traveling, you sent Ghost with me
to take care of me & he did. & he does.
Ghost The Direwolf who photobombs
our zoom calls, who we kiss & cuddle.
our little shared love, made up out of nothing,
a nothing so lovely it started to sing.
José Olivarez is the son of Mexican immigrants. His debut book of poems, Citizen Illegal, was a finalist for the PEN/ Jean Stein Award and a winner of the 2018 Chicago Review of Books Poetry Prize. It was named a top book of 2018 by The Adroit Journal, NPR, and the New York Public Library. Along with Felicia Chavez and Willie Perdomo, he is the co-editor of the anthology The BreakBeat Poets Vol. 4: LatiNEXT.
José Olivarez worked on this piece with Mairead Case, the Quarantine Times Thursday editor. Each week, Mairead selects a Chicagoan to share a commissioned creative response to the pandemic.