Rick Lupert

Poetry • Spoken Word • Jewish

Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher


Poems written in Fargo, North Dakota“Why Fargo” you may ask. And I say, you might as well ask “Why oxygen? Why watermelon? Why cats? Why monkeys? Why Sartre? Why candles? Why french fries? Why the I-Ching?” There are many questions which could be asked. Few, if any, will be answered in this book. But I will say this. Damn straight Fargo. And you may ask “Why ‘damn straight Fargo.’” And I say, you may as well ask “Why damn anything that could be damned in a damnable situation; such as fill in the damn blank.” And you may ask “Why fill in blank.” And I say you might as well not fill in any blank and see where that gets you. Nowhere far I’d bet. Certainly not more than a few blocks away from where you are now. And you know what that means. You know what it’s like a few blocks away. You’ve been there. You like it where you are. I don’t have to tell you about the difference between there and where you are now. And that is exactly what I am talking about. The difference. Yes, the difference. Not the sameness. It is not same. It is far from same. It different. (is) And so I went to Fargo on a plane. I could take a bus. It is much less expensive if you buy twenty one days in advance. I could drive. But the ice. And so there was the plane. The Fargo, North Dakota airport is not big. You could find your keys there easily if you lost them. Who wants to lose their keys though? I didn’t lose mine. But maybe someday I will. You should have my friends the Kobrinskys over for dinner. They will pay. They’re that kind if people. Would that all people could be that kind of people. Norweigan. Canadian. North Dakotan. The way music makes Christina weep. She is a world.

Poetry from Mowing Fargo

Fargo, North Dakota

More Flags Than Normal

There are Five American Flags
in front of the Fargo, North Dakota Airport.
This is in case
one of them breaks
or you forget
you’re not in Canada

A Lot of Salsa

At Juano’s mexican food restaurant in Fargo
the waitress brought so many bowls of salsa
we had to finish our lunch in Minnesota.


The Kobrinskys

The Second Floor Kobrinsky Toilet

No one ever flushes
the second floor Kobrinsky toilet.
The floating horrors
one finds become less surprising
as the days progress
and the Kobrinsky boys
mill about in the hallway
bumping into each other muttering
It’s not me
It’s not me

Nathan Kobrinsky

The waitress asks Nathan Kobrinsky
if he would like anything to drink.
“Life Insurance,”
says Nathan Kobrins


Prairie Hospitality

You are driving me through the Prairie,
gravel roads
fields of harvestables
and the occasional structure
made by human beings.
I am miles from anything I know
and even farther from home.

You have worked this land,
know it intimately.
So when you stop the car
(In the middle of somewhere, I’m sure)
and say “I think we should make out now”
I can only assume
it’s the right thing to do.

Remembering How To Shower

Thirty years showering by myself
You’d think I’d remember how to do it
But back home
after five days with you
I stare at the soap
wondering how to apply it
without your hands


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