Gerry Fabian

School Children Do Not Read Contemporary Poetry

this poetry
hides underneath parked cars,
snaps at radial tires,
writes passionately about exhaust,
out-negotiates used car salesman,
doesn’t wear seat belts,
ignores the 55 mph speed limit,
and now and again
sneaks into the back seat
to fuck.


After Hours At Aubrey’s Atlantic City, New Jersey 1981

you’re just a tourist
vacationing in life.Not much more
than a boardwalk pigeon;
so take the nuts –
leave the shells.

Come on,
the sand don’t bitch
while the ocean clobbers it,
again and again.
Where do you get off?

Want some advice?
Walk quickly in the hot sun,
talk slowly
to gun-chewing black women;
bet with your head,
lose with your heart
and most of all
ignore those fictional folks
who sit back at home
and lick their tongues
to carve your reputation.


Aerobic Shadow Release

Each owl eve,
I peek-gaze
through dim shades
as harsh gold
bathes your dance.
With each flinch,
a slight jerk
of wet skin
and kiss teeth
growl and howl.
The red tongue
and flush lips
singe sing-chant
harsh hard sighs.
Blood fire burns
‘til the cold
window pane
fogs with heat
and gives off
my secret
slum dream ode.




R. Gerry Fabian is a retired English instructor. He has been publishing poetry since 1972 in various poetry magazines. His web page is He is the editor of Raw Dog Press His novels, Memphis Masquerade, Getting Lucky (The Story) and published poetry book, Parallels, are available at Smashwords and all other ebook stores.