Benjamin Brindise

The Girl in the Passenger Seat


She sits in the passenger seat
after leaving words in the spaces
between the yellow dotted lines
of the highway behind us

I only see it out of the corner of my eye
- I don't turn my head
I don't want to steal looks at things
that have nothing to do with me

But I can't help the shadows cast
as her hands wrangle through her hair
like her finger tips are chasing root ends
that never tied themselves up

Wringing herself clean to songs of freedom
It must be a tiresome process
And even though I believe that
those words taste dead upon my tongue

I have yet to find what being free means
best not to project my short comings
on other people


Finger Paints


I smell finger paints

I’m in third grade and my art teacher
has told me I can paint anything I want

So I paint the stars –
and a spaceship flying among them,
because in third grade, the only thing I wanted

WAS TO TAKE OFF

The little problems look small from a launch pad –
They look even smaller from up in space
It starts big,

an epic scene of dog-fighting, lasers,
barrel rolls and fiery explosions
Squadrons of brave soldiers taking up arms
against some imperialist, totalitarian rule
the main antagonist in the most bad ass ship
the whole thing propelled by thousands of years
of back story and fan fiction

There is a narrative here, I’m sure of it –
but I can’t quite find the thread

Something about people who have important things to do doing them,
and me, I’m just here to take record, but
that battle in the back corner seems a little sloppy –
So I cover it in black paint to give more focus to center stage
At home, there are battles, too
Ones my art teacher never sees
because I cover them in black paint before I come in for class –
I don’t want to take up space
with things that only matter to me

I want epic battles between destined people
Heroes that the universe has lifted up –
I wanted to hear or say anything
that takes attention away from the bloodstain
on my bedroom rug
And the dogfight taking up the left part of the page
is out of proportion with the rest
so I black it out, too
And fill the space with small white dots
The kind that fill my vision
when I clamp my eyes shut, but no tears come
This is all I know of stars –
All the best one’s I’ve known
are the ones they kept covered up
And on second thought,

the main star destroyer looks like a rusty Ford Escort
I have to admit I am not good at painting
The real world never seems to match the images in my head
The black paint is so stuck on my finger tips
it begins to leave a mark on everything I touch
Prints I didn’t mean to leave
that will dry, flake, and turn to rust
follow me home like extra footsteps
when you’re the last one off the bus
My art teacher told me I could paint anything I want

and all I’m trying to figure out is how I fucked that up

I black out the star destroyer

There’s only one battle left.

It’s off in the back and it’s just one ship against one ship

Something most people would have never noticed otherwise

I cover the rest of the frame in black

I dot it all with stars

leaving that one dogfight in the back

The one no one noticed, center stage

I painted something I want


Vaudeville


I have cleaned up well
There is a show tonight

My rows of seats ready, spread
so that everyone gets a view

The floors are clean
no where to get stuck when they file in

And everyone with a ticket gets a seat
My silver screen shows demons defeated

by heroes splashed in empty computer graphics
Just to make sure we know that heroes aren’t real

We have reached the future -
And tonight, there is a man coming for his fifteen minutes of fame

Bringing songs with melodies made of click-clack’s
baring all the skin we keep in safe spaces

He has been instructed in houses like mine
living rooms in America filled with more guns than people

more trigger pulls than words
He is coming with guns he bought online

just like his ticket
to the show


Benjamin Brindise (b. 1987) is an American writer of fiction and poetry as well as a Teaching Artist at the Just Buffalo Literary Center. He is a PSI certified spoken-word poet who qualified to compete in the 2015 and 2016 National Poetry Slam. He has been a guest speaker and workshop facilitator at multiple institutes for higher learning throughout New York State and Canada.