Episode 12
a million-dollar talent dribbled away on nickels and dimes
used sparingly on cleaning fluid and bus tickets
drips nice and smooth around the shoulders
luxury
a leaky fountain pen that drops ink on a horse’s name in the paper
a purse of 240 bucks
an old crumbbum
the things you need you only need once
nothing is next
the dirty end of the stick
scissors to save a lousy hide
the things you need most
serenity peace of mind humor the ability to laugh at oneself
a box of too-tight shoes with slippery leather soles
to go someplace to find what you need
patience
giving you the business
taking you apart bone by bone
death in the eyes
what was needed for Mr Renard was slippery shoes
Mr Fred Renard
just another guy with a sour mug
but one to whom contentment came
with difficulty
*
rod serling was a legs man
he had a hankering for ladies with a certain subtle curve and grace to their shape
the black and white landscapes of his dreams came down to two things
slips and cigarettes
while his nightmares ran ragged with bombs and muddy trenches and zithers
props from a war he felt he never should’ve come back from
rod serling had a crush on his typewriter
he knew a good piece when he laid eyes on it
but not before
rod serling never belonged where he was
he knew when the sky was opened
he wanted to be seven years old again
rod serling was a bad drunk
nothing made sense and he always ended up feeling lonely
the hurt inside him turned into a tempered rage
rod serling knew a thing or two about god
he knew god wasn’t the state
he loved the down and out
the beaten
the washed up and used
and the long shots
the underdogs and losers
rod serling was a legs man
summers he used to sit in the window of his office on Sunset
watch the pretty girls go walking by
in their shorts and sun dresses
and shake his head
at what a lucky bastard he was
to be alive
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