Permission Slip 1.1

 “As a matter of fact,

Just trying to get by,”

He said. I didn’t listen.

I listened when he played.

Going forward, it comes naturally.

In the meantime he decided.

Now it was a matter

Of going forward. Why not?

And yet, not so fast.

Sometimes it matters, sometimes not.

Maybe you can turn around,

Maybe not. Sometimes the punctuation

Seems entirely arbitrary.  Who died?

And made you the authority?

For that matter, who me?

The episode seemed too arbitrary.

Much of a muchness ensued.

It was enough to stop

At the crosswalk. Or not.

Just remember, take your time.

The quotation marks seem entirely

Arbitrary. Sometimes it works, sometimes.

Justified or ragged? Who knew?

In the beams, the motes.

In the wood, the grain.

Permission Slip 1.2

 Gets a little expensive though,

The forbidden fruit. It’s coming

Toward you at a rapid

Clip. The Puritans would object.

I abject. And I’m not.

Cow pies all over, watch

Where you step. And keep

Your shoeshine kit handy, Andy.

If it looks like making

Up the difference, it is.

Then again, have a banana.

That’s what we used to

Say: “No shit, Sherlock, have

A banana.” The kids were

Startled by the unexpected news.

I was startled that they

Didn’t know it. That’s geography.

Or maybe generations. Cow pies.

In your face. I get

To decide what to do

With the punctuation, even when

I’m wrong. It’s called permission.

I did but I didn’t

Know. I did but I

Didn’t want your father’s permission.

Permission Slip 1.3

 False steps forgotten, try again.

The wrong window illuminated, stop.

This is not a telegram.

Stop. I haven’t even started

Yet. Too bad, just stop.

But I haven’t even started.

He played a mean piano,

Using his elbows and forearms

In addition to his fingers.

He had no problem starting.

Maybe stopping. It adds up,

Especially when you’re poor already.

Not to mention orthopedic impedimenta.

I want to lie down.

Again? You just got up.

The news machine didn’t suit.

Nothing personal, just my disposition.

Whichever side of my brain

Was active, it was on

The wrong side, for that.

Am I never to know

The secret code, the handshake?

It was always three on

A match, a silk purse…

Can’t we try it again?

Permission Slip 1.4

Impossible to do this gracefully.

It’s the most difficult part

Of the job. That is,

Doing the job. Like sculpture,

It wasn’t quite that easy.

But he kept slapping clay

Onto the wheel. It focuses

Your attention on what’s missing.

Or what could be missing.

After a while it comes

Easier. But not your call.

I break for soda crackers.

I break for large trees.

Take a break, and never

Give it back. Not fair

To local 109. I believe,

Said the politician. Do they

Really believe anything? What’s that

Sucking sound? Who’s on first?

It’s easy to come back

When you know it’s easy.

It’s harder to come back

When you know it’s hard.

It’s impossible to come back

When you’re six feet under.

Permission Slip 1.5

That is, it wasn’t broken.

It was a false start

At something frightening. The organ-

Grinder’s-monkey school of derision.

He kicked sand at me,

Enough to make a mirror.

It seemed broken at times;

At times it actually was.

She turned toward the glass

And cracked it straight across.

To take away, to depart.

The going gets somewhat easier,

But never easy. The window

Was broken—it isn’t just

You. Now they’ve fixed it.

It’s not just you, but

You have a bad case.

Take it up the stairs.

Will you accept a gratuity?

A camera is a mirror.

It was a heavy mirror.

And if not why not?

I don’t believe in Friday.

He couldn’t decide. But there

Was time. Time was there.

Ian Ganassi's poetry, prose and translations have appeared in over 100 literary venues, in print and online, including New American Writing, The Yale Review, and First Literary Review East. Poems are forthcoming in Home Planet News and New American Writing, among others. The poems here are Section 1.0 of a five-section chapbook titled Permission Slips. Three Permission Slip poems from Section 5.0 of the chapbook appear currently in Unlikely Stories. Ian's full length poetry collection, Mean Numbers was published in 2016 and is available on Amazon. Selections from an ongoing collaboration with a painter can be found at www.thecorpses.com.