It's hard to establish a fetish
when you can't find a thing
to get kinky about. I mean,

intercourse doesn’t even count!
It's got to be something weird
like ... I don’t even know what.

At the church picnics, Kate blushes
and dishes up her famous casserole,
so you consider a cream-of-chicken

fetish, but decide plain old sex
would be better. It just would.

Especially when Pastor Bill slaps
gobs of the noodley, creamy stuff
onto his plate with a big old spoon.

You want to put the ingredients
back into the package and think
about them that way. You want
the missionary position, the dark.

Mitchell Metz
MITCHELL METZ writes only because he never made it to the pros. His wife likes to remind him “you never even came close.” A former All-Ivy football player, Metz is now the primary caregiver for his four young children. He writes in his largely hypothetical free time. His work has appeared widely, including such venues as Southern Poetry Review, South Carolina Review, The Underwood Review, Pearl, Redivider, and Mudfish. His wife thinks he should put together a collection right after he fixes the screen door. This is his second appearance in The Adirondack Review.
The Adirondack Review
The St. Lawrence Book Award
The St. Lawrence Book Award
The St. Lawrence Book AwardThe St. Lawrence Book AwardThe St. Lawrence Book Award
The St. Lawrence Book Award