All posts by Alan Berecka

Alan Berecka, the grandson of Polish and Lithuanian immigrants, was raised in rural upstate New York. A librarian by trade, he is a professor of learning resources at Del Mar College in Corpus Christi, Texas. His poetry has appeared in many periodicals including The American Literary Review, The Texas Review, The Red River Review, The Blue Rock Review, Ruminate, and The San Antonio Express. He has published five collections of poetry, the latest of which is With Our Baggage, Lamar University Press, 2013. alanberecka.com

Keys to Insanity

His keys speak to him. They say, “Stay home.
Bad things happen out there.” They know
he won’t listen, so they wait for the morning
his alarm forgets to go off; the day he’s running
late for a primo tee time or a meeting
with the boss, and then they decide to hide.

They dive deep into couches, slink off tables,
sit hunched on pushed-in chairs, burrow deep
into piles of dirty laundry. They muffle their jangle
in winter jackets with pocketed gloves, lay low
in stacks of mail and newspapers, squat in the corners
of book bags and briefcases. These keys are clever,
so he tries to sneak-up on them, crawling on his belly
with flashlight shinning, hoping to catch their glint
under beds and sofas only to find their doltish cousins
— lost coins and ball points. As hope slips away, he petitions
St. Anthony, who still preoccupied with Amelia Earhart
and Jimmy Hoffa, never helps. Bereft, the man simmers
to a boil, frothing he screams, curses; pillows and shoes
take flight. A cyclone forms; his wife, kids, even his dogs
take cover. As he rages, he hears the keys mocking him.

Eventually, he surrenders and takes his wife’s set
to the hardware store to be cloned by a mad scientist
with a maniacal laugh who for a joke cuts into
their soft tin the genetic code for agoraphobia.

An Evil Turn

Coming back from Corpus,
having just signed a contract
for a new job, I was heading
back to Waco, when I hit straight
line winds and torrential rains
in a boxy Astro van with worn tires.

I’d like to say that as my van
spun like a top on I-37
I saw my life play
like a Hallmark movie:
my wedding night,
my children’s births,
but all I saw was taillights
then headlights then taillights
until the van hit the grass median
and then a tree. I’d like to say
that when the van began to roll
I thought of loved ones and friends,
but the only thought that came
was “I wonder if my life
insurance is paid up?”