Does the penguin feel deserted?

Are you pranking me with this kiss?

Are those flowers real? Really,
they look so real. Did the voucher
work? Do you have a Sprint phone
I could borrow for a week? I’m ready
for an answer.

I’ve got fifty on the Croats.
If they hold on, I’ve got six-hundred.

Is there any other way?

I’ll make you feel what I’m feeling—
in the branches, a moist heaving—
(or I won’t and what of it?)
In the mordant sun, a disclaimer:

You’ll never lose those eyes,
your kind are gods now.

Is this a standard obstacle, doubt?
What was Lincoln like at my age?

It’s coming slowly, trenches sloppy,
I dug a tunnel, but they caught me.

My music, my mornings
were embarrassing. I wasn’t
technically embarrassed however.

I don’t want to be one of those guys
who the sky is just falling for.

I’ve got a pithy vision, but in truth
I think the scaremongers are right.

And I’m not sure I could love
in a second language.

But no matter, I don’t believe
in every tapestry I read.

I believe I can do calisthenics.

Or aren’t there any new cereals
hitting the shelves?

I can only hope they’ll remember me
from the focus group.

I hope they won’t remember what I said.

Joshua Kleinberg was born in Florida and grew up there and in Ohio. With Dana Jaye Cadman, he runs Banquet Reading Series in Brooklyn.