the first time i saw jaws
i was terrified of all
bodies of water
the ocean in front of my house
and the bay behind
the pool in trinidad village
even the jacuzzi beside
it wasn’t until the first time
i went to universal studios
and saw that dumb mechanical shark
the loud gyrating motors
moving the silicone mouth
teeth gnashing at air
that the spell of terror
had broken into actuality
it is hard for me to see
a thing and not rush
immediately to think of
all that defines it and all its
meanings and other
connections
nearly every beach town you go to
be it kismet long island
pismo in san luis obispo
or cape cod
people will try to
convince you “THIS is
the town that inspired jaws”
what a thing to brag about
being from a beach town
packed tight with tourists
who smell 50% like fried food
and 50% 50 spf sunblock
i know the formula
for cute as shit soon to be
haunted and hunted by a whirring
and clanky shark vibe
is equal parts salt
water
taffy
frozen margaritas
nearly burned now dry hamburgers
and the constant aroma of a bon fire
or at least its embers
it would at this point
take some very good scoring
to reterrorize bodies of water
for i the listless ahab
captain of not even my own apartment
to explore again the shallow deep
Existing mostly on the fringes of the poetry world, Paasha Motamedi has been writing bad poetry for about ten years, and regular poetry for another five after that. His style is influenced heavily by the New York school, with contemporary explications of the "self" in an absurd new world.