Henge Composes His Chiding Thoughts to Ed Groat Regarding Boastfulness of the Pending Naval Battle, a Haiku

Uhh, bubba, when are

You going to have a big

Lake Me Catharsis

William Comparetto

© 2007
 

Sepia, Nostalgia, Anger, Audacity, and Boredom Because of Inauthenticity of Immediacy, Aggravation of Lake Me Naval Battle, and Refusal to Let Go of The Past, a Haiku

Pete Limpelli, you

Made this whole thing angry:

This Lake Me battle

William Comparetto

© 2007

            Carmine fervently itched at his intercostal trunk, and the late summer cicadas chided their horrific dirge - incessantly clacking and grinding in a sine wave hum from the tops of trees surrounding the small parking lot. He covered his mouth over the receiver of the phone, seeing some of the joggers were staring at him, slowly traversing ( Read more... )

            Carmine, to the mirrored polish of the payphone cashbox, forced despondent frown. To the payphone he bayed a slow and deliberate ‘ming - key - uhhhh!’ and put his hand in his teeth and bit in a substantiated act of self loathing.

“Call em off Bill, Christ.”

“I could do these guys, but Christ, the fucking ( Read more... )

            Some joggers, engaging in the pars course, ran out the path from the other side of the parking lot. There were three of them. All three were blonde and had high cheekbones. Two were wearing Milton University sweatshirts, and another had a shirt that said, plainly; “Northface,” in silkscreen. They jogged past and looked at Carmine, ( Read more... )

            Reaching into a compartment of his undergarments, Carmine pulled out a prepaid phone card, and dialed the one eight hundred number, then entered the card number, then waited through about forty seconds of advertisements telling him to shop at Sam’s Club more often, and informing him he could save money on gas. He pulled out a slip of ( Read more... )

The old van spun on the aggregate, spewing limp roostertails out from the back tires, and making a crackling sound as tiny rocks sprayed from their resting places. Carmine wrestled with the steering wheel under his tattered overcoat, and bounced up and down in the captain’s chair, as Rush Limbaugh continued to blare out of the dashmounted factory ( Read more... )

            “Great,” Pete said. He hung up the phone. Mentally, he sketched things out. 1. Get the salt water reel. 2. Make nice with the redhead vixen he one night standed with. 3. Never mind 2. 4. Head over to the local Wild Oats and get some more tea tree oil toothpicks, some Medaglia D’Oro, somewhere find a decent coffee maker and a thermos ( Read more... )

The True Psychology Underlying Pete Limpelli’s Desire for a Salt Water Reel for a Prop During a Naval Battle on a Small Midwestern Lake: A Haiku

Ambassadeur reels

Give arrogant New York wops

Imagined power

William Comparetto

© 2007

            Pete Limpelli traced his crooked index finger down the smooth newsprint of the Yellow Pages. His finger made a comforting dull squeaking sound, as it quietly hissed down the column. Sporting goods. Fishing supplies maybe? He flipped to the “F” section, in search of “Fishing Supplies” A couple of entries. One in Mason, and one in Hyde ( Read more... )