He was called the Great Tweed because
A Tweed was a perfectly attired student
And he was great at it so he was called
The Great Tweed. Once in a while men
From NYC advertising agencies would
Visit the university looking for models
And mostly they picked athletes but
When they saw the Great Tweed they
Put him in Esquire. Okay last night
Upon suddenly awakening I flashed
A so-vivid image of the Great Tweed
Circa 1965 in the elevator of our
Embarrassingly rundown Columbia
Dormitory and I even remembered
The Great Tweed's name although
I had never spoken to him which
Caused me to wonder if perhaps he
He had died at that moment but
When I Googled him I learned he's
A retired brain surgeon in Florida.
My takeaway? Though starlings fly
By night in their sidereal thousands
Their murmuration is a single voice.
At the Valvoline Place
At the Valvoline oil changing place
I introduce myself as the oldest man
In the world and I ask the young man
What is the most miles he has seen
On a car here at the Valvoline place.
He says about four hundred thousand
But I scoff at that and say how my car
Already has two hundred twenty-five
Thousand and it will easily make
Four hundred thousand except I might
Not be there to see it in as much as
I'm already the oldest man in the
World and he asks how old are you
And I say I am two million and ten.
Smolarek. You know that name.
When Smolarek said swimming
Gets the crud out of your pores
You listened and listened good.
Same way as when Smolarek
Went to jail and when he got out
He said it was like Barnum & Bailey
In there. Why was Smolarek in jail?
He was talking to the female police
Officer whereupon the male officer
Horned in. What did Smolarek do?
Same as you would have done!
Exact same thing as Smolarek did
Is what you would have done too!

Now is this what you expected?
Mist or a fog-like moisture lasting
An hour or so and then creepily
Gaining intensity without you even
Registering it until a steady rain
Falls in the suspiciously still air.
I say 'suspiciously' because the
Stillness is in fact an unstable
Equilibrium that slowly and then
Suddenly explodes into a monster
Simulacrum of itself as though
In some demonic funhouse mirror.
I say 'demonic' because of your
Tendency to anthropomorphize
A meteorological phenomenon
Into some divine judgment now
Sternly rendered on all your
Boneheaded financial blunders
And your dread of making a
Fool of yourself in the bedroom,
The boardroom, the bathroom,
The barnyard, the beauty shop,
The battlefield, or behind the
The wheel of your automobile
And when the hurricane blows
All of that away you will go
Oh wow. You will go oh wow
Again and again. You will just
Keep going oh wow, oh wow,
Over and over, just oh wow.

Ed. note: Click here for Sisskind's interview with Michael Silverblatt, host of "Bookworm."
https://www.kcrw.com/culture/shows/bookworm/mitch-sisskind-collected-poems-2005-2020
Oh wow. Had to say it. Meant it sincerely. (Resonates particularly with me since I am in fact the oldest woman in the world. Born in 1939 BC. I particularly like the deceptive simplicity. The rhetoric of these poems is classic.--cl
Posted by: clarinda harriss | March 13, 2021 at 11:49 AM
Wow is right.
Posted by: Warren King | March 14, 2021 at 10:02 AM