“A lovely poem about dolphins”
I made the mistake
of googling myself
and clicking the title.
THAT WAS ENOUGH.
If Skeletor hanging over his left shoulder wasn’t—
DOLPHIN RAPE— THAT WAS ENOUGH.
FOR SURE. FOR SHAME.
I might never google again.
There are TOO MANY OF ME—
matt kanes I mean.
And they’re all WEIRDOS.
Here I was, thinking I was the freak.
No way. This one— Hey,
I finally found one
who writes poems,
and better than me.
Pulling down his trousers—
and not noticing anyone else
around. DOLPHIN RAPE!
Why didn’t I think of THIS ONE before?
So I keep on googling—
and here’s one writing for the Huffington Post.
His Twitter handle says he’s the RealMattKane.
SHIT. If I had only known!
Here I was, thinking all these years
I was the REAL Matt Kane. But NOPE—
Some Boston Beaner IS. Or so I’m told.
Ahhh, and here’s another
more succinct than I will ever be.
Famous for five short words:
“I landed in the Hudson.”
GEEZ, Matt—I was wondering
who stole all my LUCK. give it back.
OK, here’s a good one. “Casting Associate.”
He worked on the Television Show, Scrubs.
ENOUGH SAID. I’ll like to go to bed and
not worry he’s responsible for Zach Braff.
So YEAH. Mom lied. All those years.
Mom lied to me.
“You’re so very special.
There is nobody else in the world
QUITE LIKE YOU.”
SHIT—yes there is. AND PLENTY OF ‘EM.
You couldn’t give me a more unique name?
There must be hundreds of matt kanes.
And what gives with my middle name?
THAT DOESN’T WORK— That doesn’t work at all.
And besides, I can’t drop my first name
in favor of my middle name—
There’s that Chicago Blackhawk, Patrick Kane—
and I got asked by a Bank Teller just last week,
“Do you watch Hockey?”
And I knew exactly what his next question would be.
“NO,” I said.
“AND I HAVE NOTHING TO DO
WITH THAT DOUCHE
WHO ROBBED A TAXI DRIVER
OVER A NICKEL IN CHANGE.”
He solemnly handed me my receipt and told me to have a nice day.
All I need NOW
is to find out my girl
has another matt kane on the side.
I guess I’ll figure THAT out,
if I ever hear her barking like a porpoise.