Our Brand of After Hours Poetry




"Did you sleep with her?"
--she demanded.
Walking away,
is what I do
with you."
Riding Giants
Each new love affair
is like
standing in front of 
a 50-foot wave--

it looked doable
from shore.
The Girls That Get Me
It's always
the girls with glasses
that get 

Especially when
they are filled with
Wild Turkey, Corona
and Seven & Sevens.




You promised 
you would kiss
every one of them
if you could find them.

I would scar them
into me
all over again
if I believed you.
Bukowski Writes My Best Poem
I thought it honorary
to introduce 
the one true poet
who taught me
and gems
of truth.

So after reading
2 of my poems,
I chose the one of his
about the fat lady
on the curb
and I read it brilliantly.
The audience 
ate it up.

the people came up
to me, loved my poem
about green jello
and the fat lady 
on the curb--

…you bastard,
even in your 
I can't
for the life of me
live up
to you.
Cold Plunge
He proposed to me
in a steam bath
on my 30th birthday,
but he didn't say
the words.
I pointed that out,
and then he jumped
into the cold plunge.
But I couldn't do it,
only up to my calves.
In the hot tub
I kept looking
at the ring,
as if it was some new,
shiny scar
I will always 
have with me
no matter what--
and appalling
at the same time.




Car Troubles
Every night
it was her,
that drove me
to the liquor store.

We didn't 
even own
a car.
When her date goes
to the bar
to refill drinks,
she turns
to me
and smiles.
Her blue eyes shine
across the room,
the way the lighthouse
signals a ship
that the coast is clear.
Testing the Lipstick
She was flirting 
with the guy
across the room.
He was playing it
real cool
waiting for her
to approach him.
Before she made her move
she asked 
if her lipstick was okay.
I said,
"let me check,"
and planted 
a long kiss on her lips.
I withdrew,
told her
her lipstick was fine
and turned to order.

When she caught her breath
the guy was a memory
and I had already ordered
drinks for two.


Will Staple

She claims to be older
than she looks
and says
she grew up in the age
of good psychedelics
and free sex,

naked bodies
sliding in the mud.

If the first kiss
made you melt
you knew you were going
to do it anyway,
why wait?

In the Heat of the Moment
Forget about
the button popped off
onto the floor,
you have a sock
to get off
with no time
to spare.
Out the window
of the northbound
a woman sitting
on the train station platform
knees wide, short shorts,
black purse ‘tween naked thighs
rapt in a book—

In the birthplace of Bukowski
I hoped that afternoon
she might sit rapt one day
reading one of mine. 


Amber Decker

At 7PM
You board a plane to Las Vegas
bound for a supporting role in a wedding
you do not believe has anything to do with love
Earlier, we’d made love on an old mattress
on the floor of your best friend’s apartment,
the hard shell of your suitcase banging
into my knee, your mouth wet
with the harsh scrape of my name.
There was little romance in it,
only the frenzied unleashing
of the not-knowing,
the possibility of unhappy endings, cutthroat desire.
I do not love you.
Or, rather, I love you
as I would love a deck of cards
while waiting for a train or a bus.
Our goodbyes fly across a crowded room
like small white birds.
At the ticket counter,
you kiss me with lips smooth as Cary Grant.
In the car, the radio plays songs to name
every sort of love 
that does not bloom
in my heart for you, 
and the long white lines of the road,
like dark-haired college boys
with bodies pale as ghosts,
take me home to bed.

4 responses to “Poetry

  1. Pingback: Ghost Town Poetry Open Mic Featuring Matt Amott June 14, 2018 – PRINTED MATTER VANCOUVER

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  4. Pingback: The Girl Who Left You Giveaway Contest | After Hours Poetry

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