by Travis Shosa
I’m explaining to a woman
who looks like Wing
that I need to sing
you the whole fucking River.
Every sea ocean pond
these things have been fished from,
I just need
83 short minutes and a
captive audience to express
how I come.
But this place doesn’t have
“Crush on You,” and it
doesn’t have
“I Wanna Marry You” and it
doesn’t even have “Sherry Darling,” just
“Hungry Heart.”
I only know how to speak through icons,
so that’ll have to do.
So many lonely men watch me
Boss it up. I’ve got that Simon Says
swagger in my step and a
blue collar I bought from
collars.com and what a privilege
to be lonely together.
Bittan’s punchy keys,
Clemons’ subtly piquant bari sax,
and my gang,
Volman,
Kaylan,
Van Zandt,
they lift me up from decades past.
I really ham it up and
you look like a doll
packed with Pop Rocks
about to burst.
They’ve got
ruby red tuna nigiri,
glittering salmon roe,
futomaki, temaki, just plain
maki.
You don’t have to eat the
shaggy dog, just eat
something.
You look so thin.
Everybody’s got a
Hungry Heart.
Travis Shosa (they/them) is a writer from Spring, TX. Their poetry is featured or forthcoming in Maudlin House, BRUISER, Eulogy Press, The Bloomin' Onion, fifth wheel press, Eunoia Review, Burial Magazine, Some Words and more. They run Dodo Eraser, a lit mag and reading series, and they are a Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee. Their music journalism has been featured in Pitchfork, Bandcamp Daily, The Line of Best Fit, PAPER, and more.