‘Baby’s After Me’ and ‘In the Movies…’ by Gene Goldfarb


Baby lives down the hall
from me, owned by
a gruff old lady we’d share
a small, tight elevator.

Baby was always suspicious
of me, sniffing and straining
at her leash, and eyeing me
with her soft brown eyes
while tilting her head sideways.

Sometimes, she’d let out a low
barely audible growl, while
her owner would whisper
‘Easy Baby, easy. Shh…’
Does Baby really think I’m
going to lose it, and burst out,
‘Yes. Yes. I did it, you know’?

I have nothing against Baby,
but she’s good, a real pro.


the heroes chew their food at the table
like well-mannered bovines
side to side
in their smartly sealed mouths,
these morsels tedious distractions
incredibly never quite forming
the essential bolus to be swallowed
yet the magically disappearing
with the all-important plot moving on
to solving the crime, saving the world
and winning the girl

Too true, but for monsters the poor
guy they devour is performed
as a gustatory celebration
wth comic relish bordering on
outright glee, the victim consumed
as if he were dilapidated rag doll
being discernibly dismembered
by a garbage truck, except the head
which is delightfully disgorged like
a tiny unwanted pit and shot out
like a cannon ball.

Watching the heroes, all the action
is in the nods and winks, the wise words
all that nonsense, but when I see monsters
I can only reproach them for eating too fast
while the reptilian in me smiles and says,
Go baby, way to eat!


Gene Goldfarb lives in New York City, where he ponders, love, hate, mortality and what’s up with the guy who hangs around the building. He loves movies, books, travel, and international cuisine. His poetry’s appeared in the small press including: Black Fox, The Daily Drunk, The Gorko Gazette, Rat’s Ass Review.

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