Teenagers of the Damned

Another version of this poem at Mark Tulin on Letterpile.

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Buttered popcorn, milk chocolate Goobers

and launching fresh spitballs,

 wads of wet toilet paper 

sliding down the silver screen

as confused and dazed ushers 

chase children misbehaving.

We clap, hoot and holler

for the possessed little blond-haired boys,  

flashing their strobe-light eyes, 

ice-cold water in their veins, 

infiltrating a celluloid English town.

 They rise from the grave of affluent families,

 putting their mommies to sleep,

melting their poor daddies

into pools of Silly Putty.

I wished that I had their power 

to reduce adults to pint size humans,

to make teachers, neighbors, and bullies 

feel the wrath of a teenage boy.

Casting the last Pixie Stick onto my tongue,

I suck feverishly on a caramel Sugar Daddy

with a handful of red licorice in my hands,

I finally feel content in my sugar high.

It was just another Saturday matinee

flipping our friends and enemies the bird,

teasing the girls in the front row.

Next week another horror film:

the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

9 thoughts on “Teenagers of the Damned

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