First Strike At A Problematic Erasure

Like April, I was inspired by Corrina Bainn's technique of writing in form, and then removing parts of the form to create a new, more sparse poem.

​I have a couple of poems I'm trying to write about the terrible place where I leech wifi while I do laundry. Here is the first.

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Problematic Pizza Villanelle, Self-Erasure
Adam Stone

I never know why I come to this place
Tasting and feeling overly salty
The owner needs to be punched in the face


for spewing forth vile opinions on race
that every customer wishes he'd halt
I never know why I come to this place


Every dollar I spend feels like a waste
sacrificed to yet another faulty
tale where the owner gets punched in the face


Even imagined violence is poor taste
like the flavor of the food that assaults
me just for entering this fucken place


Every time I leave, my memory's erased
of the rage that fills the air, the default
of the stream of shit that pours from his face


into my ears with     semblance of grace
no opportunity for a volley
I never know why I come into this place
The owner needs to be punched in the face