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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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These sad eyed suits
they mean well
Fuuuck we all mean well
The drug dealers & shitty poets
The evil weathermen
twistin their pubic hair in Chinese box kites
Nothing holds nothing
holds everything.
All is slipping thru the slipthru
a shimmy down breakthru.
They’re selling love…
but we all know its just
airplane glue.
.
art by Mark Weaver
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