ODE #3 TO A CHROME ZIPPO LIGHTER
Kenneth DiMaggio
Every time you made that
hollow sharp-sounding click
--a little bit of stylized menace
--a little more of your own death
That seemed like it was going to be
never when you still had to be expelled
from junior high school
and know the taste and smell
and feel
of the flesh whose blossoming
started separating it from yours
so what
if in the meantime
your black Converse high
tops t-shirt and denim
jacket with the collar turned up
made you look like a punk
--that palm size piece of polished metal
that could kiss like the tip
of your old man’s welding arc
ws your illegal hoodlum badge
That is why it was so easy
to get taken away
--surprising both
yourself
and the four older bullies
who did not think
they would actually have
to pummel
to get you to un-vise what
would no longer be yours to make menace
but not without a smile that seemed
to be thanking them
--Pow!
Oh you could easily
get a couple of dollars from your paper
route money to buy another chrome
Zippo lighter
--but not something
that could get broken
but never taken
like the stainless steel
buckle that was slung across
a soul entering adolescence
a thing that you soon learned
needed no fugitive or criminal
a thing that just needed to smile
when something big like God
was going to teach you a lesson
