Tetanus by Bryce Johle | Cluster One

React
like you’ve been injected,
veins a syndrome pumping
a gradual molestation.

Research the late two-thousands,
a golden era of cell phones
still struggling with internet,
and minutes from going stone-age,

discover flip-phone service
met obsolescence, your employer
requires something smarter
to authenticate your presence,

and there is no
such thing
as a modern day
Jack Kerouac.

Remember you don’t know
how to drive to Trader Joe’s
without directions, or get home
with the eggs and popsicles.

When instinct is running
but the rusty stage nails are fastened,
bare your teeth like a chimp,
shake hands with your fellow inmates

Pay for the tetanus shot.

Lay out on the carpet,
your box of toy brains
dumped out in a pink-purple pile,
one in each slimy hand, making them kiss.

Bryce Johle holds a degree in Professional Writing from Kutztown University of Pennsylvania. His poems have appeared in publications such as Parentheses Journal, Eunoia Review, October Hill Magazine, Maudlin House, Rabid Oak, and Pennsylvania Bard’s Western PA Poetry Anthology 2023, among others. Originally from Williamsport, PA, he now lives in Pittsburgh, PA with his wife, Sharayah, and his stepdaughter, Genevieve.