Damon Jasso's Poems

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Membership Card

We stand in the checkout lane,
in a crowded convenience store,
holding our faith in one
small blue box
as we blush five hues pinker
when in front of us
a woman
places her groceries
onto the conveyer belt while
a clerk with a Jesus Saves necktie
rings up her sale as
we wait, hiding our box
behind my back,
ignoring
that quartet of small children
running around the TV Guide
magazine racks while
begging their mother
for candy.

When the family leaves,
the clerk asks us if we have a
membership card, for it gives
us discounts and special privileges,
but we tell him, “No!”
And he tells us, “God bless you”
as he rings up
slowly
our sale
to give us a moment
to think about it
and he neatly opens
the plastic bag
making sure
our purchase
falls deep, really deep,
into the bottom
of the bag.

Click on the below links on the table for my latest semester's worth of poems.

Poems (Second Batch)

Special Teams (Safe) l Special Teams (ballesy)

Undertow (HIGH art & LOW art versions)

Popcorn

My friend describes the mind
as a curious child
who picks up foreign objects
and wonders
if he should
stick it in his mouth
or not.

I tell my friend that he has it
all wrong.
For the mind, to me,
is a bag of microwave popcorn
that sits in the microwave
and expands
slowly
one kernel at a time.

Once done, the bag is taken out
and emptied with each kernel of
experience, thought, and desire
all jumbled together into
a large bowl placed upon
the coffee table.
Then the curious ones
stick their hands
deep enough into the bowl
grabbing their share
of the popcorn.

I Don’t Care Anymore

I don’t care anymore. Or is it no one cares anymore?
Sitting here while watching TV--
We don’t care anymore.

Detached from the realities unfolding onscreen--
They don’t care anymore…
Watching a war 2000 miles away
I don’t care anymore.
Causalities erased with just a flip of the remote switch.
Is it I don’t care anymore or is it no one cares anymore?
(Change the noun as needed)

I plug into the internet to look up some facts,
Instead I find a woman shaking her ass
on her live web cam asking for cash.
But she doesn’t care anymore.
(Come on, you really know what she cares about!)

I pick up my mobile phone,
Afraid to be alone but I have no one to call!
You don’t care anymore!
(Did I have no one to call? Or did
I run out of cell phone minutes?)

With the television off and no one to call,
I fill out some financial aid forms;
I realize the first thing I fill out
is not my name but my social security number.
But no one cares anymore.
(Remember to change the noun as needed
i.e.: I, he, she, they, her, dog, cat, child, woman)

I turn on the radio and hear a singer
humming to a tune that is not music.
(ask Stockhausen what is music.
Or read about Cage.)
How can these people be on the radio? Oh wait!
I saw them on TV, well MTV, watching them
flirt and exploit their bodies as a means.
Denying their moralities while soaked in their youths,
but since I can’t seen them--
I don’t care anymore.

I drive to a college I can no longer afford.
(Being that I have a huge car note to pay.)
I’m told to better myself here but instead
they tell me I’m too dumb.
This choir sings in a key I cannot hum.
But I don’t care anymore. Or is it no one cares anymore?
(Do not say they are singing to the key of money.
That would be too easy.)

Looking for a church but I cannot find religion.
They were taken away from our schools and our buildings.
But no one, absolutely no one, cares anymore:
(Here comes the obligatory rant)
I don’t care anymore!
You don’t care anymore!
My dog doesn’t care anymore!
Mother earth doesn’t care anymore!
Neither does your dentist
or even your mayor.
(Now repeat refrain and replace the nouns)
He doesn’t care anymore!
They don’t care anymore!
My cat doesn’t care anymore!
Nature doesn’t care anymore!
Neither does your gynecologist
or even your governor.
(Repeat the refrains as needed until you feel better.
Note: don’t forget to change the nouns.
Then take a breath and repeat to yourself:
It will be okay, it will be okay, it will be okay…)

(PS-It won’t be.)

Special Teams

Her entire family is in the living room
all sprawled out onto two mismatched couches.
They’re watching a football game on TV,
dirty dishes are in the sink,
and the dog is chewing a leftover turkey bone
at the feet of its master.

The visiting team scores
and her family gets upset.
They shout expletives at the TV.
A commercial plays something
about long-term investments
while the kicking team
position onto the field.

On my left, my girlfriend
nudges my arm.
She wants me to speak up
but I sit just there
on the couch
patiently
checking to make sure
the second hand
on my watch
is still moving—
it is.

Then her father looks
at us
while the referee
on TV
motions a foul.
A delay of game
against
the visiting team
and the dog
at its master’s feet
eagerly
starts to wag his tail.

Taking a deep breath,
I look at the family
and announce “our” plans
as I pass a little square cushioned box
from my hand into hers.
Both the family and the football team
talk about the next play.

Houston

I drive my car slowly, keeping up with the ant
that carries a piece of bread on its back
on the freeway shoulder next to me, down I-45.
Alongside me are some genuine Cowboys,
riding in their Toyotas and SUVs.
I hear the other car radios playing
ZZ Top, Travis Tritt,
and even some Tejano gritos
coming from this old beat up dodge.

Today my car a/c is off,
it is December.
People, here, wear t-shirts and shorts
to Christmas day mass.

The cars stop. This is common in Houston.

And today is Sunday:
I cannot buy a beer, not even a cerverza,
until noon.
Whatever happened to the bubba laws, anyways?
The only places I can get a beer before noon
are at the Taquerias.
Where Mexican flags adorn the windows
and the help only speak enough English
to get by.

If you oversleep in this town, it’s over.
Oh course, I did.

It’s the damn clock radio’s fault!

I mutter while sitting in this traffic
which last for hours
and hours
despite the entire town
surrounded by just one
BIG LOOP.