Michael Basinski

Doing Bad

I guess we did something wrong,
At fire drill.
Mr. Fredy, our teacher, was really pissed,
Because there was horsing around.
I could never figure out what horsing around was.
We lived in the city.
Only horse I ever saw pulled the junk man’s wagon.
And then my uncle would sometimes say: close the barn door,
Meaning my zipper, or the horse will run away.
So, I thought, that horsing around meant playing with your dick.
I wondered who it was.
Probably Wally, I figured. He was weird, could spell everything right, had brown shoes, white socks, glasses, father lived with him.
Anyway, playing with your dick during fire drill wasn’t no good.
I mean, I would hate to have my dick all burned up.

Based on Actual Events

Your sister told me.
That when you died.
You became a white swan.
White as any January blizzard in Buffalo, New York.
Your sister said:
Leave her alone,
You can’t talk to her ghost.
Hear me?
I didn’t.
So, I asked your ghost:
If you hear me, tell me.
Something
To startle this mundane world, some secret, something magic.
Your Ghost said:
If you fart and sneeze at the same time
you will become a ghost.

 

Michael Basinski lives a little outside of Buffalo, New York. He likes winter, and often daydreams about tossing nuns off the tops of tall buildings. His works have appeared in many places. He continues.