The title should suffice.
Profound Shit
She collapsed on top of me
And rolled over
To the side,
I was more exhausted
Than she was,
Funny how that works,
After a few minutes
She spread her hands
Across my chest
And plunked her chin down
On them,
Then she made the face
Of little girl
Waiting for story time,
“Tell me something deep,” she said
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re a writer, aren’t you?
Don’t you guys come up with all sorts of
Profound shit?”
“Uhhhhhhh …”
I thought for a moment,
I saw the daylight
Coming in through the blinds,
I repositioned myself and
Got ready to speak,
Then it came sailing out:
“When you realize
That Time is your kindest friend
And Death is a beautiful maiden
Waiting for you at the end of a long, dark road
The power of life
Will grip you by the legs
And swing you into
The sun …”
There was a sharp silence,
Then I heard her laugh,
I looked over at her with
An injured expression,
She was talking
On her cellphone
….
An American Voice
I’ll be walking down the road
Some grey day,
Wrapped in thought
Or burying my nose
In a book,
Then suddenly
I’ll hear it;
The hideous reverberation
Of a thousand lunatics
Gurgling cum,
Or simply put,
An American Voice,
Its owner will undoubtedly
Be saying something banal
Like:
“Where the hell are YOU going?”
Or
“Jesus, that stinks!”
And I’ll get this urge
To draw my fist back
And smash that fucker’s face into
Bloody screaming bits,
And then it dawns on me …
I’ve been talking
To myself
Again
….
Check Please
One time
I was on a date
And we got on the topic
Of heroes
And my date asked me:
“Who were your heroes as a kid?”
I hesitated to tell her,
But eventually,
She dragged it outta me,
“My heroes as a kid,” I said.
“Were Freddy Kruger, The Joker, and Hannibal Lecter.”
Her eyelids slipped back around her eyeballs
And I could see the veins
Like tiny red worms
Writhing in milk,
After she caught her breath
She spat at me:
“How the fuck could your heroes as a kid be
A child-murderer, a cackling psychopath,
And a practitioner of gross cannibalism?!”
I took a sip of my beer
And chuckled:
“Their elected professions
Weren’t what I admired
About them.”
“Well what was it then?!” she screamed.
“What the fuck could you have possibly seen
In these gigantic assholes?!?!”
I looked her up and down,
She was wearing a grey blouse
And her hair was pulled back
In a ratty bun,
An angry white dot of spittle
Had formed at the corner
Of her mouth,
I handed her a napkin
And said:
“Forget about it.”
….
The Creep
So I was sitting on the tram last Friday
And I was in my groove,
I had my headphones bumpin’
And my fingers jeweled up
And my neck shinin’
And my teeth out rappin’
With Biggie,
Then I noticed this
Little blond boy
In the adjacent seat,
He was staring at me
With his big vacuum blue eyes,
Absorbing my rhythms and my shakes
And all the crackling noise
Around me,
I could tell I was
Creepin’ into him,
So I lifted my pinky and used its long nail
Like the beak of humming bird
To prick his spirit,
When his moms caught sight of this
She pulled him away,
Then the tram stopped
And the two of them got off
And left me thinkin’:
“Damn, I hope the little dude
Doesn’t grow up to be
A drug dealer.”
…..
Note: I reserve the right to occasionally alter the character names, descriptions, and/or event details in my posts for the purposes of identity protection and “fluidity of story.” If this puts a kink in your panties, read someone else’s blog, homey.