Saturday, August 06, 2011
A Political Story
The Government places me with Crystal family, murky
yet patriotic. And walking distance to the prison where
I go monthly to see my parents.
Both incarcerated for attempting to overthrow, etc.
Mother with explosives, my father, vague tactics.
In less hysterical times, he's sent home with a scolding.
After each visit, daughter Jeanette asks me five questions,
recording my answers in a marbled composition book.
Since the answers are glaringly obvious, she stops
after a few months.
In Dickens, an attraction develops but she has no sex,
and shares the family trait of periodically exploding for
no reason.
After both parents die in prison, I get sent to a recently-discovered uncle in Montana. He proves pure gold!--
open, loving, fond of fart jokes. “Emotionally, I never
got out of the six grade,” he announces in his rusty pickup
as we bang over dirt roads on the way to fishing holes.
Yeah, it’s all too Norman Rockwell.
Saves my life.
He passes when I enter Missoula as an Art Education major,
a flight of flannel-shirted angels carrying him to St Peter,
who detains him until he hears every single fart joke.
Well, my fancy. I’ve others.
Strange to say, I now teach in the high school not far
from the prison. Jeanette warms up enough to marry the hardware store owner, who, noting a curt way with
customers, sets her up with an International Maids
Franchise where immigrant women clean houses.
Ostensibly in an old-world, scrubbing way.
I've got the best job in the world, teaching art to willing youngsters. And, blessedly, out of the political loop
run by a cabal of English and Shop teachers.
Being too “flighty.”
Live-in girlfriend considers me normal. We’re both,
of course, crazy.
The Government places me with Crystal family, murky
yet patriotic. And walking distance to the prison where
I go monthly to see my parents.
Both incarcerated for attempting to overthrow, etc.
Mother with explosives, my father, vague tactics.
In less hysterical times, he's sent home with a scolding.
After each visit, daughter Jeanette asks me five questions,
recording my answers in a marbled composition book.
Since the answers are glaringly obvious, she stops
after a few months.
In Dickens, an attraction develops but she has no sex,
and shares the family trait of periodically exploding for
no reason.
After both parents die in prison, I get sent to a recently-discovered uncle in Montana. He proves pure gold!--
open, loving, fond of fart jokes. “Emotionally, I never
got out of the six grade,” he announces in his rusty pickup
as we bang over dirt roads on the way to fishing holes.
Yeah, it’s all too Norman Rockwell.
Saves my life.
He passes when I enter Missoula as an Art Education major,
a flight of flannel-shirted angels carrying him to St Peter,
who detains him until he hears every single fart joke.
Well, my fancy. I’ve others.
Strange to say, I now teach in the high school not far
from the prison. Jeanette warms up enough to marry the hardware store owner, who, noting a curt way with
customers, sets her up with an International Maids
Franchise where immigrant women clean houses.
Ostensibly in an old-world, scrubbing way.
I've got the best job in the world, teaching art to willing youngsters. And, blessedly, out of the political loop
run by a cabal of English and Shop teachers.
Being too “flighty.”
Live-in girlfriend considers me normal. We’re both,
of course, crazy.
Labels: art, government overthrow, politics, prison
