'Extinguish' & 'The Patron Saint of Scared Kids Who Break Into Dry Cleaners' by Justin Karcher

EXTINGUISH
I’m standing on the beach with my ghost beside me
we think we’re watching whales wash ashore, but they’re not whales
they’re mammalian jukeboxes from the 1950s
a coin-operated Cold War from when the world was supposed to end
their cords are plugged into nothing, but they’re still spitting out songs
the best songs about fire, flames, or things burning
is this what it looks like when you lose passion over time?
when the fire inside you has no place to go, but you keep singing anyway
We see the glow of fire in the distance and a haunting of shadows
my ghost whispers, “I don’t know why firefighters exist
you can’t run from momentum, you can’t fight it
when love goes up in flames, it’s not the heart that smells rotten… but the sky itself
raindrops that feel like a dead man’s fingers on the back of your neck
we’re always ready for a fresh new start
surgeons made from ash dissecting old anatomy
so we might walk in newness of life”
I don’t know when my ghost started quoting the Bible
when he started cutting the cocaine of optimism
with the pessimism of laundry detergent
it’s a volatile mix, he’s piss-poor company
but I have to remind myself that this is my future
the fire continues to spread
my ghost whispers, “Fires should die of natural causes
wouldn’t it be nice if beauty leaves this world on its own terms?”

THE PATRON SAINT OF SCARED KIDS WHO BREAK INTO DRY CLEANERS
I’m driving aimlessly in a car that’s not mine
staring at the empty can of Red Bull on the passenger seat
wondering why Pac-Man is emblazoned on the aluminum
thinking about being so hungry that you could eat ghosts
then Sirius XM saves me from my brain
Kid Cudi singing, “kids see ghosts sometimes”
which means that ghosts see kids too
and that’s a little scary
then suddenly Kanye West starts rapping
I forgot he’s on this song
I still love Kanye
despite everything
loyalty has always been my biggest flaw
and I imagine Kanye as a ghost of himself
sticking his translucent head out the window of a haunted house
and maybe America is that haunted house
a city upon a hill, now haunted
where kids congregate outside its rusted gates
afraid to go in, because once you enter
you’ll be leaving in a body bag
all of America is trying to eat Kanye!
anyway, I still have laundry to do
it’s too late for this
and there’s a little voice in my head saying
throw your dirty laundry out the window
shirt by shirt, your dumb white button-ups
you hate wearing, let the kids who wander streets
find ‘em and put ‘em on, like slipping on ghost skins
the kids who break into dry cleaners when nobody’s around
and stealing all the clothes, because it’s easier to deal with ghosts
when you’re dressed up like the living dead
the kids who want nothing more than to see clouds with color
eventually, I come across this deflated hot air balloon on the side of the road
I pull over, scoop it up, put it in my trunk like some bludgeoned corpse
then I go into a gas station and run inside to the ATM
take out whatever money I have left in my checking account
then I dump it on the counter and demand all the quarters in the world
run outside to the air pump, put in the quarters
start filling up the hot air balloon
until it’s full and luxurious and ready to touch the clouds
then I sail around America picking up the kids wearing other people’s clothes
clothes that don’t look right on ‘em, clothes that hide who they really are
clothes their parents wear, clothes that politicians wear
ghosts can’t see us way up here, they hate it when kids turn skies into mirrors
I never did the laundry, oh reverse damnation
the car I was driving is now a statue at some gas station
we use the skin we shed to cover up American dread
the kids who break into dry cleaners will never be dead
Justin Karcher is a Pushcart-nominated poet and playwright born and raised in Buffalo, New York. He is the author of Tailgating at the Gates of Hell (Ghost City Press, 2015), the chapbook When Severed Ears Sing You Songs (CWP Collective Press, 2017), the micro-chapbook Just Because You've Been Hospitalized for Depression Doesn't Mean You're Kanye West (Ghost City Press, 2017), Those Who Favor Fire, Those Who Pray to Fire (EMP, 2018) with Ben Brindise, and Bernie Sanders Broke My Heart and I Turned into an Iceberg (Ghost City Press, 2018). He is also the editor of Ghost City Review and co-editor of the anthology My Next Heart: New Buffalo Poetry (BlazeVOX [books], 2017). He tweets @Justin_Karcher.