"In Memory" by Damian Rucci


I jerked off at a church once—
not in a church, no. 
I’m a gentleman. I was outside
on the bench that was in memory
of some old bastard I never knew.

It was 4:26 AM on a long June night
that became an early July morning.
The fever had just broke, thanks to

the quart of blueberry vodka
I chased down with beer.


We had played up at the firehouse,
our fingers bloodied from rusty strings,
our ears deafened by the screams of the crowd.
We forgot the words to the songs we wrote
and forgot the chords,
so we jammed for an hour,
took our money, and split.


Jackie, the girl I had sang my heart to,
who danced to our bad songs, called it a night

and went home to her boyfriend.

So I kept drinking and jerked off at the church

bench in memory of that old bastard
and wondered ––

would anyone remember me?