~ The Phone Call ~

This phone call
means that a drunken

voice will seep through
miles and miles of wire

and funnel into my ear.
Your words are snails -

slow moving under
their burden; however,

the tacky residue tells
the straightness of their path.

Your thick voice quavers -
persuades me to follow

you to our memory.
Your words break it down -

vowels rip as
consonants crush.

A heavy pulp
is left in the gut.

Your voice then recoils
into some hollowed out place.


* * *

~ wear a bulletproof vest when hunting with the vice president ~

why did you shoot
your hunting buddy,
DICK? why?
i saw a photo of him
on tv & he doesn’t look
much like a quail.
unless you were trying
to gun down
the other quayle,
dan i mean.
your hunting buddy
doesn’t resemble him
either though. the old
geezer had a heart
attack because of you,
a heart attack.
a condition you are all
too familiar with. actually,
you are due for one right
about now & since
you will be at the hospital
anyway why don’t you
have your eyes checked
while you’re there.

© Corey Cook

~ BIOGRAPHY ~

Corey Cook's work is forthcoming in Ad Hoc Monadnock Online, Entelechy
International, Flutter, KuPoZine, Mobius, and Nerve Cowboy. He works at a
not for profit and is one of the editors of The Orange Room Review
(www.freewebs.com/theorangeroomreview). Corey lives in Contoocook, NH with
his wife and two adopted cats.

E-mail address: coreydcook@hotmail.com