Three Poems by Ricky Garni

“Let’s Call It Tuesday”

I would like to go back in time and call myself Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing.

I love every part of it – starting with the Hidden going to the Valley all the way

to the Ranch and ending with the Dressing. It wouldn’t be easy to be called Hidden

Valley Ranch Dressing, but I think it could be done.  I would have to go back, way

back, further than my birth. In fact, I would probably have to go back to my Mother’s

youth and guide her gently to Hidden Valley, probably somewhere in California, and

get her all excited about having a big salad there. I would have to make sure that the waiter

at the restaurant was extra handsome. I would also have to hide all the oil and vinegar and

bleu cheese and Italian spices. I would have to scent the valley with the sweet, pungent aromas

of mayonnaise, sour cream, buttermilk, garlic, dill, parsley and onion. I would have to make

sure that my Mother was more forceful than my Father, although my Father would still have to

be extra handsome and extremely potent. Both my Father and my Mother would of course

have to be feeling a little frisky and impulsive and there would of course have to be a comfy

room with a lock on it in the back of the restaurant that had a little cot and a pillow and a big

white candle. I also would have to make sure that my Mother was extremely sentimental, which

she is already so that’s not a problem, had a keen memory, which could use a little God help,

and was extremely hungry on this day, let’s call it Tuesday. The rest then would unfold

naturally and my wish, or dare I say it – dream? – would surely come true. Assuming,

of course, my Mother wanted children. She always said that she would like children,

so I’m not so worried about that.

**

“The Bus”

I can’t wait to pull the little yellow cord

and hear some broad say STOP REQUESTED!

Yes, My Love, that is me. I want to stop this thing.

I request it. Preferably,  near the pharmacy.

I want to buy stuff that will ease my pain.

OK, so I don’t have any real pain. That doesn’t

mean I don’t like chocolatey treats that you can

buy at the pharmacy. I do. They ease my fakey pain.

If you please, let me stop. I will purchase chocolatey treats.

And I will think. I will think about you. I will wonder if you

have ever been on a bus. Are you shapely, are you alive. Are you happy.

Are you here. Are you there. Were you ever. All we really know is that you

can speak. We don’t know what is it like to hear yourself and nobody knows.

We don’t know what is it like to say all day long someone’s innermost thoughts.

To say all day long that someone has had enough.

**

“The World is Spinning”

Muscat Blanc à Petits Grains comes in all sorts of colors.

Peter and Paul loved Jesus. They lived in a stone house.

Al’s Motel in Asbury Park had a light green sign in 1960.

Pluto uses his front paws to express emotions.

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Ricky Garni is a writer living in North Carolina. He is presently condensing twelve manuscripts of poetry into one: 2% BUTTERSCOTCH RIPPLE. His other titles include THE ETERNAL JOURNALS OF CRISPY FLOTILLA, MAYBE WAVY, and MY FIFTEEN FAVORITE PRESIDENTS.