Don Kloss

The Beautician

My grandmother was a hair dresser.
She ran a beauty shop in the basement
of her little suburban rancher.

Lois’ Beauty Parlor-- It had two chairs,
light pink walls, and stank of hair coloring
chemicals. Man, those women loved to talk.

She was in big demand at the funeral homes
because she didn’t mind fixing the hair
of the deceased old ladies, many of whom

were her former customers. When her time
came, she was not afraid, for she had not just
cradled death’s head in her hands,

she had also teased it’s bangs and touched-
up it’s roots.

Be My Supper

You are like a ham bone
to me. I want to throw you
into a pot of hot water
and let you simmer
for a few choice hours
along with the turnips,
carrots, potatoes, kale,
celery and parsley .
Later, I want to spoon
your broth down
my throat with a ladle,
let your juices dribble
out the corner of my
satisfied mouth.
And much later, when
the bowl is near empty
I will sop up what’s left
of you with a thick slice
of crusty French bread.
I’ll go to bed then,
happy, my appetite
for you vanquished.

A Wild Hair

Hey you-
Don’t take me for stupid.
I’m lucid but noosed.
I ride the caboose of eloquence
in a short sleeved shirt,
alive and five-foot-five,
not quite the squirt.
I need evidence of pretense
suggesting past-tense
relegation and deviation,
alleviation from suspense
that comes from a ride
on the fence, buck
frustration, question causation,
TV station, confused nation.
I’ll play the lottery, win some cash,
have a slash, shave my head,
stay in bed, in the shed,
wait to be read, play at dead,
swap my ride, spank my hide
raw from the inside.
Find expandable,
retractable protractable
pterodactyl meat,
prehistoric Spam
on a hot, hot spit,
in a deep dirt pit.
Who wants a piece of it?
I’m up on the inside,
down on the outside-
Searching out clarity,
impossible rarity
no need for charity,
expensive gravity
total depravity
rectal cavity.
Check me out.
Hot damn!

Don Kloss is a South Jersey poet with strong ties to Ohio and Venus. He has been published in a number of journals including: The Edison Literary Review, US1 Worksheets, Thick With Conviction and Decompression. Don is an avid outdoorsman who believes in the right to bear arms, and the right to arm bears.

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The views and opinions expressed throughout belong to the individual artists and may or may not coincide with those of the other artists (or editors) represented within the magazine. Hobo Camp Review supports a free-for-all atmosphere of artistic expression, so enjoy the poetry, fiction, opinions, and artwork within, read with an open mind, and comment wisely. Thanks for stopping by the Camp!