0 My Ass
The phone rang
caller ID
read Texas
A voice said,
“I have important
information for
individuals
0 to 85”
I hung up
thinking, 0
How in the hell
would I answer
the damn phone,
if I was 0
* * *
December Blues
It was December 10th
at the post office, there
was no mail anywhere
An old timer says, “When
the Christmas rush hits,
you’ll scream, Jesus
fucking Christ”
I stared at him like
the dumb ass that he
was & opened my
lunch bag
Red lemon butterflies
danced around his face,
then disintegrated into
dust covering him from
head to toe
The man was mystified,
like something from an
Otto Dix nightmare
Falling to the floor, he
died in his stinking combat
boots & army field jacket
All he had in his pockets
were a Canadian nickel, a
swastika, & a pack of
Russian cigarettes
I helped myself to a smoke
* * *
Bring Me An Apple With No Worms
After attending a brief writer’s workshop and reading and presenting several stories and poems, I got a letter from the cute female instructor. “I feel there is something lurking deeper behind your words than fornication, defecation, and masturbation. The class is quite taken with you. The plump young lady that writes about her chiropractor performing the Harley-Davidson kick start maneuver on her sacroiliac is obsessed with you. The old grandma that keeps bring you vagina shaped cookies is crazy for you. The gay guy can’t remove his eyes from your well endowed crotch. You have blown my mind with your work and persona. I wake up at night and have to reach for Mr. Buzzy while fantasizing about you. The community center has agreed to fund an anthology of our collective writing. Would you agree to be editor?” I wrote back in the affirmative with a dinner invitation. One thing leads to another, happily I might add. Later I submitted some poems about me having sex with gay zombie dogs; I felt I wasn’t the proper judge of my own work.
.
