Neutral Spaces Birthday Poems

Mike Andrelczyk

Marmalade Dove

The marmalade dove shivers in the crystal
candy dish eye of the jelly sun.

It takes all day to get to the country
we suck on moon-flavored lies to pass the time.

We rest a while under the burning leaves of onyx tree
The shadows coo like the marmalade dove.

We whip the invisible oxen as we haul your birthday cake
to your party but when we get there

All we find is an otherwise empty graveyard
and a single glowing man eating sherbet.

“Popsicles?” He asks.

In the purple scent of hyacinths we lick the icing from
each other’s fingers and sing “Happy Birthday”

To everyone who is not here.

The Happy Birthday Neutral Spaces Poem

lost in the city. but a Tron-like version of the city

(the one with Jeff Bridges) somewhere you’ve been

in another life. memories of this

city. memories best not to go into.

over the bridges. to the other side. in a cold fall

night waiting for the sleeping

pills. alone in a grid.

a moon in a mirror.
new directions

(not the press)

inside a box. every step like turning

a corner

always losing it (already lost)

and then a soft window appears pinkly floating

and from the warm homelight a family singing:

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday dear Neutral Spaces

Happy birthday to you

and then the lights blow go out (again. infinite agains) and

I (the other I)

wake up on the canvas

in the middle of a boxing ring

and a soft yellow light hovers above me

and I turn my head

and the faces of everybody I don’t know

are vibrating

pop stars

and faces from TV

Dave Eggers just lost $1,000,000

(no big deal)

and he mouths

the words (fuck that guy)

and my mouth is bleeding

and I am the loser

and it’s my birthday too

Rule Change

A change to the boxing rules

Mandating that at the end of each round

The ref must say

Hey, c’mon stop it, you guys are friends

In the whiniest voice possible


a cargo ship

but it’s shaped like a pair

of giant camo cargo shorts

and inside the pockets are crates

full of smaller pairs of actual

camo cargo shorts

but they are shaped like cargo ships


The shape of a mountain

A score of centuries

The tooth of a behemoth

An arrow to the future

A passage through

A cheap cigarette scheme

A mound of ash

An upside down martini glass

A new party hat

For another year

A thing that comes to an end.

Mike Andrelczyk lives with his wife Stacey in Strasburg, PA. He is the author of a book of haiku “Dissolving” (2019) and a chapbook “The Iguana Green City & Other Poems” (2018) and is working on a new book of dumb poems called “101 Stupid Jokes for Stupid Kids.” Find more work on this birthday boy’s website. He tweets at @MikeAndrelczyk.