JUNE/JULY 2012: POETRY
by Tom C. Hunley
“I got us a divorce this afternoon…. I didn’t want a hokey second wedding like those ones on TV.”
– Homer Simpson, “A Milhouse Divided”
The Bridegroom:
I have been unfaithful to my bartender,
Moe, whose heart shattered like a cheap
pint glass. It’s like Moe could feel the swinging
doors as I entered the Beer & Brawl.
And Marge wasn’t happy about the croonin’ cowgal
I met there, Miss Lurleen Lumpkin. I helped her
try on outfits, inspired her song “Bagged Me
a Homer,” and booked her an appearance on TV’s
“Ya Hoo!” between Hip Diddler and Yodelin’ Zeke,
but not until the chorus of “Bunk with Me Tonight”
did it dawn on me that she wanted her manager
to be her man. No thank you Ma’am. Look at Marge’s
cheeks, two glazed donuts behind her veil. Her navel
is a pony keg full of Duff Beer. Mmmmmmm, Marge.
Moe, whose heart shattered like a cheap
pint glass. It’s like Moe could feel the swinging
doors as I entered the Beer & Brawl.
And Marge wasn’t happy about the croonin’ cowgal
I met there, Miss Lurleen Lumpkin. I helped her
try on outfits, inspired her song “Bagged Me
a Homer,” and booked her an appearance on TV’s
“Ya Hoo!” between Hip Diddler and Yodelin’ Zeke,
but not until the chorus of “Bunk with Me Tonight”
did it dawn on me that she wanted her manager
to be her man. No thank you Ma’am. Look at Marge’s
cheeks, two glazed donuts behind her veil. Her navel
is a pony keg full of Duff Beer. Mmmmmmm, Marge.
The Beloved:
Who knew a gosh-darn heck hole like the Bowl-O-Rama
would employ a suave, sexy athlete like Jacques?
I fainted dead-away when Jacques propositioned me,
and I had a dream of his trophy case-
champion bowler, hall-of-fame lover.
Driving to our rendezvous at Fiesta Terrace,
I passed a wedding, a young couple smiling
into their baby’s stroller, a family picnic,
a doting old couple, and two matching gravestones.
I u-turned toward the power plant, because
there’s no place like Homer’s arms.
He’s my stag, my gazelle. I sit content
in the cool shade cast by his hefty shadow.
would employ a suave, sexy athlete like Jacques?
I fainted dead-away when Jacques propositioned me,
and I had a dream of his trophy case-
champion bowler, hall-of-fame lover.
Driving to our rendezvous at Fiesta Terrace,
I passed a wedding, a young couple smiling
into their baby’s stroller, a family picnic,
a doting old couple, and two matching gravestones.
I u-turned toward the power plant, because
there’s no place like Homer’s arms.
He’s my stag, my gazelle. I sit content
in the cool shade cast by his hefty shadow.
The Bridegroom:
I have a hard time resisting food, and my
fortune cookie read You will find happiness
with a new love. Why did the power plant
have to hire that foul temptress? I couldn’t
stop looking as she sped away on her motorbike,
her strawberry-blonde hair and blue tie
whipping around in the wind. I crashed into
a trout hatchery, where the fish seemed to chant
Homer loves Mindy! like little kids. Gasp!
My kids! Pressed against Mindy in an elevator,
I pictured Barney in a thong and my sisters-in-law
shaving their legs, blech. Looking into my heart,
I saw Marge’s beehive, that castle that holds this
king captive, and I saw her teeth. They’re the sheep
I count when I can’;t sleep. Still, I had no way out
but to hit the emergency exit and leap,
like Woody Woodpecker, into thin air.
fortune cookie read You will find happiness
with a new love. Why did the power plant
have to hire that foul temptress? I couldn’t
stop looking as she sped away on her motorbike,
her strawberry-blonde hair and blue tie
whipping around in the wind. I crashed into
a trout hatchery, where the fish seemed to chant
Homer loves Mindy! like little kids. Gasp!
My kids! Pressed against Mindy in an elevator,
I pictured Barney in a thong and my sisters-in-law
shaving their legs, blech. Looking into my heart,
I saw Marge’s beehive, that castle that holds this
king captive, and I saw her teeth. They’re the sheep
I count when I can’;t sleep. Still, I had no way out
but to hit the emergency exit and leap,
like Woody Woodpecker, into thin air.
Tom C. Hunley teaches at Western Kentucky University and is the author of eight books of poetry and two textbooks. His chapbook of Simpsons poems, Annoyed Grunt, was published in 2012 by Imaginary Friend Press.
