Friday, March 20, 2009


precious was he, wasn’t he, that little shit, snot-nosed doesn’t even begin to describe him, or if not, maybe, then, well, asshole, that might work, string bean too, that’s right, skinny as a peeled piece of string cheese, a real lightweight, a featherweight, a glass-jawed, knobby-kneed, sunken-chested scarecrow, just a little pipsqueak son-of-a-bitch, but he meant what he said, I guess, yeah, I guess that is true, and if he pushes you just push back, just push back, when he pushes you, just start a fight, yeah, just by pushing back, push him down on his ass, push his ass back, back, back, and down into the gutter, if you can, then do it, push him back when he pushes you, it’s not so hard, to push that scrawny kid down, that gangly little shit, push him down and don’t ever let him back up, that precious no-good skin-and-bones dope, push him down when he pushes you and you push him back, and make sure he stays down for good, in the gutter if you can

punching is overrated. intimidation is key. don’t ever back down. get others laughing. get others on your side. grab hair if you have to. pulling hair is effective. hawk lugies. stand tall. make a fist. talk loud. cuss. make fun. wait until you see the piss run down the pant leg. then all will be okay. everyone will like you then.

come here kid. come here. be little. be small. be a snot rag. come here kid. your underwear will soon be over your head.


With wavering steps does fickle fortune stray,
Nowhere she finds a firm and fixed abode;
But now all smiles, and now again all frowns,
She’s constant only in inconstancy.


bitter. alone. liked by none. drooling a little. sitting alone at lunch table. tapping out gibberish Morse code on hard blue plastic. neglected. absurd. spitting Lunchables cracker crumbs on asphalt. no more spinning on BMX in mid-air. no more Ollying up on planters. no more crowds of adoring girls. no more leading gangs of kids around at recess. no more hangings. head in hands. hunched over. panting. not doing well.

stunted at best, come on, you can put up with it, t-shirt stranglings, things like that, you know, come now, it is pretty fantastic to think any differently, uncomfortable and awkward at best, face smashed against the bathroom tiles, cheek slapped with cold, with wet slime and scum, also the echoing of threats, of squealing whines, shoes in the toilet, life lessons learned, urinal-cake ammonia in the nose, piss-wet hair, belt-whipped, arms sliced with scissors, nuggied and Indian-burned, all that, come on, it’s alright, buck up, hold on, and please don’t forget to wake up when they break into your home

I don’t want (contusions and blunt head trauma) to walk without you baby walk (broken arm) without my arms around you baby I thought (cerebral hemorrhage) the day you left me behind (glasses snapped in two) I’d take a stroll and get you right off my mind (ruptured eardrum) but now I find that I don’t want to walk (bleb-wen-papule-like nodules and scars on legs) without the sunshine why’d you (nausea, vertigo, dysphagia, cyclic vomiting) have to turn off all that sunshine (abrasions on arms and wrists) oh baby please come back or (black eyes, scalp lacerations, tenderness of the vertebrae) you’ll break my heart for me cause (double vision, hearing loss, bruised nasal septum) I don’t want to walk without you no siree