My Shadow on a Rainy Day

Peter Mladinic

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My Shadow on a Rainy Day

I like the sound
of the late wrestler Antonino Rocca’s name.
Cornflakes pleases my ear. 
I like the smell of gasoline, the touch of leather,
but I don’t like the thought of animals killed for leather.   

I like the sound of “bulletproof,”
though I’m glad I’ve never worn a bulletproof vest. 
I hope bulletproof glass is never my world,
that things don’t get so bad we always have to sit behind
bulletproof glass or wear bulletproof vests. 

Papers blowing out of pick-ups on the highway annoy me,
so do poachers killing elephants for ivory.
I’ve never met a poacher, though I know some hunters. 
I don’t understand the thrill.  I’m open,
but don’t think I could shoot a deer. 
For survival, yes, but I doubt I’ll have to. 

I’m more likely to see a dead coyote on the highway. 

I’m troubled by people who leave caps off pens
or fail to turn off bathroom lights.
I like being in safe places: the bulletproof cathedral,
mall or school. Modern courthouses
are bulletproof. I like the sound, not the idea. 

I like the idea of being at home,
want others to feel at home with me. 

I bore people. Before a television
flanked by a plastic palm, Art said to me, “You’re boring!”
Worse things have happened.  

But to slit a dog’s throat,
to shoot an elephant for its tusks? 

Ok, at times I’m an SOB.
I couldn’t get along with myself,
Emile Griffith said in Ring of Fire.
He killed another boxer, Benny Paret. 
Accidents happen in and out of the ring.   

I like the pack of unfiltered Camels,
how it looks, and how a fresh pack feels in my hand.
My finger pulled a trigger, I killed an injured dog.
When someone says Murphy was shot in a bar at 3 AM,
I ask, “What was Murphy doing in a bar at 3 AM?”

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 Leon

Henry wanted to take Leon camping.
Leon, who lives in a halfway house,
a sixteen year old
whom Henry had taken charge of.
I didn’t want Leon to go.
It was okay that first time, 
but a second might lead to a third
and a fourth. I phoned Henry.

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Peter Mladinic has published three books of poems: Lost in Lea, Dressed for Winter, and Falling Awake in Lovington, all with the Lea County Museum Press. He lives in Hobbs, New Mexico.

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12/29/78