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METATRON | August Smith
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August Smith

06 Jul August Smith



In line at the grocery store
a baby stared at me
maybe because of
my orange facial hair
or my green hat loud
under bad fluorescents
we held eye contact
for a moment and then
maybe because the mother
was busy paying for
papayas, carrots, paper towels,
a bottle of red wine,
and not paying attention,
I made a silly face
sticking out my tongue
and widening my eyes
and raising my eyebrows
high upon my large forehead
and then I thought of myself
as a fat, bald, doughy baby
in line in the same grocery store
under less advanced fluorescents
in 1991, confused all the time,
my frazzled mom forfeiting coupons
for tomatoes, carrots, paper towels,
a bottle of white wine,
and strange young men and women
in awful hats
making ugly faces
that I try to process
but can’t. I’m sorry,
other baby. Please stop crying.
This is all part of the job
of being a baby.
Grow the fuck up.


August Smith is a poet from Michigan where he runs Cool Skull Press. He was shortlisted for The Metatron Prize earlier this year. He has a collection of poetry called ‘Bird Lizard Horse’ out on Nostrovia! Poetry.

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