I Never Read the Book
By JUSTIN KARCHER
Catch-22 is a book I tell people
I’ve read, but I’m not sure
I have... then again my high school
was always half on fire
& this one time, they removed
all carbonated beverages
from the vending machines
so I skipped school for months
& hid out in a Starbucks
down the street where I learned
the art of poetry, how to use
Frappuccino as lubricant
how to crush on baristas
then get politely rejected
meanwhile my classmates
were flying too many missions
over a neighborhood that didn’t care
about them, they were beaten
down by clouds that looked like
police officers or by substitute
I probably didn’t read it, oh well
So before seeing the Subversive
production of Catch-22, I text
my friend Cliff who’s always
provided a spark to my mind
basically, Catch-22 is about
a shitload of things, like the absolute
power of bureaucracy
or the impotence of language
how we’re all a little insane
these days
I think about these things
as I walk to Great Arrow
from my home in the Elmwood
Village, which is a dumb way
of saying you live off Elmwood
& want to convince people
you’re a politically-progressive artist
There’s a plane overhead
Anyway, I want it to rain
raindrops that take the shape
of submarine sandwiches
because I’m in mourning
the Subway on the corner
of Elmwood & Forest
has been abandoned, windows
shuttered & I remember when
my mom would ask me to
pick her up a turkey foot long
because she enjoyed having one
after therapy, across the street
The psychiatric center
still sits, but the lobotomies
have been replaced with omelettes
forced forgetfulness replaced
with willing forgetfulness, drinks
instead of needles
but not really
despite it now being a boutique hotel
I often wonder if it sometimes
breaks into crazy
the way people do
imagine if one morning
posh people are eating brunch
& suddenly the walls start shaking
they start swearing, murmurs
through the plaster, servers
& hostesses declaring, “The building’s
been going through a lot lately...”
then they transform into nurses
& doctors & use their electroshocked
fingers to storm the building
into an acceptable state of normalcy
they get better tips that way
I keep walking
& now there two planes
in the sky
& in front of McKinley High School
there are some football players
waiting for the bus
they’re half wearing their gear
so they look more like unfinished
concussion robots
or maybe they’re more like
robots who are learning
how to become human
so they’re shedding their machinery
bit by bit
some are eating sandwiches
some are staring at iPhones
they all look like soldiers
I hope they win the big game
The sound of more planes
On the sidewalk
there’s a used chapstick
with ‘Give” on the label
I imagine when the world ends
a group of lonely people
will sit in a circle
& pass around the world’s last chapstick
they keep using it
until there’s nothing left
nothing to put on your lips
not even love
& you’ll always feel chapped
I walk past Voelkers
today a coworker
told me that this is the actual place
where McKinley was shot
& Buffalo turned it into
a bowling alley
not a museum
“Typical Buffalo,” he said
I can’t validate his beliefs
“What about that tiny plaque
on Delaware?” I ask
“It’s only telling
half the truth” he calmly says
so we move onto a different topic
Then I’m smoking in front of
the Great Arrow building
where once I “ran” a theater company
now I’m thinking about all the productions
we could’ve done
suddenly the Subversive doorman
asks me, “Are you in the show?”
& all I can say is, “I don’t think so
I’m coming to see it though”
he’s persistent
“Are you sure you’re not in the show?”
I just wanna scream
that it doesn’t matter
that he should pay more attention
to all the planes in the sky
but I don’t
because I’m secretly worried
he’ll be like, “What planes?”
The show’s about to begin
time to climb up some stairs
Yeah
I don’t think I ever read Catch-22
but does it really matter?