Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Johnny Cash
When I was a little kid, I thought I could sing just like Johnny Cash. I’d sit at the kitchen table drawing pictures and singing “Ring of Fire.”
And it burns, burns, burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire
“I sound just like him, don’t I!” I’d say to my older sister. And she’d just laugh at me. I was confused, I was hurt. Why would she laugh at my powers?
Each morning, looking into the bathroom mirror and brushing my teeth, I would stare into my own eyes as I shook violently. In the middle of this shaking I would see a dark stillness, and from there the man in black would step forth and take possession of me like a whispering sonic boom. Inside this warm embrace I would sing
And it burns, burns, burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire
and the toothpaste foam would seep out of scalp and reach out in thin strands
like static lec’tricity to the walls and ceiling
the paste would wire itself into the grout
and the fused brightness flashing
would brand itself into my heart
I would sing
Because you’re mine,
I walk the line
like a rabid zombie.
Johnny Cash himself protected my very soul. And my sister was gonna fuck with that?
Ohh but the fire went wild
And they found a piece of her every day for the next eleven hundred years.
From my new book Hookers or Cake II, which people can buy, on the internet!
