Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

On Seeing Sylvester Stallone at a Basement Bargain

I saw him pick up two pairs of woolen socks, dirt cheap,
maybe to keep his toes warm while he’s shooting
his next film in Iceland. I walk up to him and ask him
if he’d like my autograph. He smiles and says
“Am I supposed to know you?” I smile back
and say I’m the main stuntman for his next film.
I tell him that in Iceland there are no heroes,
just anti-heroes and a tundra of fallacies
about how you can catch pneumonia
from loneliness.
 
 

kdKiefer Dietz lives in New Jersey. He has been published in The Kitchen Poet and elsewhere. He likes comics and Indian food.

 
 
 

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