Hookers or Cake

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I'm too wacky to be hip.

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      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.

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          • February 17, 2011 9:54 pm

            :

            We ran round the neighborhood high on angel dust
            looking at the houses, the artifacts of everyday lives
            a bicycle lay were it landed by the  front door
            a path worn - toys strewn about
            a hobbit village in the flower bed

            screech of car tires and blue police lights

            the dark lunging fear burst in upon our dream

            we ran til our lungs burned and blew
            leaping fences, rivers and mountain ranges

            all the way out west to California
            where the cops were as stoned as we were

            fed our brains to the sun and laughed with the great water

            the great water roaring all night
            much to the delight
            of my lovers heart

            -Hookers orCake (Jade Bos)

            647 notes Filed under:  shitty poetry,.
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