Issue 2 Prose Poetry


“The act of describing a quirk or ritual”

By Joshua Lindenbaum

OCD (Oh-see-dee) n. 1. An imagination that can override trusting one’s self. 2. Checking the door
     knob for the eighth time because you know that if you don’t, it’s going to bother you; what if
     someone walks in and steals everything?; what if I didn’t lock it and my family is killed, and it
     would be
my fault? I would never get over the guilt. And if I couldn’t get over the guilt, then I
. . . 3. Hovering your hand over the doorknob. 4. Repetitive thoughts that make
     brainwashers dry heave. 5. Turning the car around to make sure that pothole wasn’t a person.
     If it was a person, I think I would’ve noticed; I was looking right at the road (after all). 6. Logic often
     loses. 7. A friend asks to try your drink and a montage of diseases and germs scroll past your
     eyes. 8. Your hands beg for mercy when they see the sink again. 9. Projecting your thoughts onto
     others, an empathy without empathy for one’s self. 10. Pain. Lots. 11. Treatment is available;
     there is hope. 12. It won’t be easy.
OCD (Oh-see-dee) adj. 1. The act of describing a quirk or ritual as in I have to make sure
     all of my shoes are facing forward; I’m soo OCD.
2. If you ever made a similar statement,
     refer to noun.
     3. Would you like to rephrase your statement?

After Kevin Coval and A. Van Jordan

Joshua Lindenbaum’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Drunk Monkeys, West Texas Literary Review, HEArt Online, Breadcrumbs, Yes Poetry, The Bangalore Review, Five:2:One, 3Elements Review, Typishly and several other publications. He’s been workin’ as an adjunct for seven years, and although exploitation does not provide a warm fuzzy feeling, he enjoys teaching. Currently, he’s pursuing a Ph.D. in English and creative writing at Binghamton University. The pen has been his companion for quite some time, but it’s still waiting for him “to put a ring on it.” It will even blast Beyoncé songs from time to time from a large boombox.

Image: “Scribbles,” March 11, 2015, ink on paper, William O. Pate II