Sunday, September 30, 2018
Following Form in America
When a Crocodile was nominated, he
went before a congressional panel
crying genuine tears.Labels: Congressional Committee, crocodile tears, nominee
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Savage Music
-He beat that first wife like a drum!
-Horrible!
-I lived in the next-door apartment then.
-What did it sound like?
-G Major.
-Jesus!
-There is no key of J.
Labels: criminal, drums, Music, wife, wife beating
Friday, September 28, 2018
Intensely Sociological Question
Labels: class, sex, snobbery, Yale
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Systems
“Growing up in that house. With Mother and Dad only…” she answered, “Forgiveness in short supply.”
Statement comprising her refusal, he said goodbye, and she smirked the same.
Following week, a little lost, he drove
by the house.
As Fate would have it, the Power Steering failed and he
wrenched the car to the curb!
wrenched the car to the curb!
There, fought off a short panic attack.
Soaked with sweat, he restarted.
All Systems Go.
Labels: apology, forgiveness, obdurate, sad history, unmoving
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
Cultural Ends
-Ding-Dong
The Wicked Witch is dead!
Grisly Celebration
for Christians. . . coy
allegeds anyway.
-Wicked Warlock the same?
-No, we’d naturally mourn.
Though into weird shit, one
of the Boys!Labels: Christian, female, male, warlock, wicked witch, witch
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
Little Generic Brown Birds
knife in as a plunging
wave, wings roistering
decibels of buzz. Tapers
gradually to silence as
each lands on wires.
There sway
in sigh-
ing wind.
When it ceases, they
emit that buzz
of flight
as a voice.
Imitating the day
as do we.
Labels: birds, communication, flight, similarity of species
Monday, September 24, 2018
I just know that she’s impossible!
I get teased about my robot girlfriend.
“Emily Bronte.”
Writer when it meant something.
The Programmer seems bent (Stop
right there!) on reviving such an
era, for I must submit my criticisms
of her in narrative form.
Most focus on her coldness.
His criticism of me, and hers, is that
I fail at warming her up.
Maybe I do, but I’ve tried everything!
Up(?) to the level of silly, impromptu
gifts. So juvenile and embarrassing!
Can one apply “frigid” to a robot?
At any rate, she has driven me
irredeemably nuts, and I probably
should consider other builds.
Another Emily looks promising, Dickinson.
But, my Emily has gotten wind of it,
and turns frantic!
She claims she’ll do anything to
keep me.
Anything!
Enter the sexy and romantic Emily.
Wow!
Next month pure ice again. Uh huh?
My narrative to the Programmer leaves
nothing out of this craziness!
Sordid pages and pages!
Then he comes up with the
BIG REVEAL!
She’s really a human female woman, and I’M the robot.
Build Number M-51186921, Raymond Chandler.
I’m offered robot molls from his novels.
Such sexy ones!
But I simply cannot leave my Emily!
Labels: character complexity, Literature, love, men, quirks, robots, Romance, women
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Here and There
I go towards the World,
a raucous trip
to an even more raucous
destination where
they fire questions at me!
Acquit myself well enough
to ask permission to
return, which
is never, ever, granted
but always implicit.
Labels: authority, privacy, stress, trap, travel, worldly
Saturday, September 22, 2018
Situation
I have absolute open sesame at a usually forbidding bureaucracy.
Walter, the Head, and I have frequently
straightened things out.
This time we make short work of my
double-knotty problem!
“We’re done here!” announces he.
“Courier delivers new papers to you
this afternoon.”
“Courier delivers new papers to you
this afternoon.”
I tell him I’m genuinely grateful!
“Now you can do ME a favor.”
Of course, but proves a strange one!
A Lou Harker gone missing, like,
maybe permanently! The Bureau
must restore him somehow.
I’m to be him for a few extra minutes.
A young couple comes, and I assent
to what they say.
All gobbledygook and I nod...when
not issuing a genial yes!
Easy, but the ambient quite surprises!
Love flows from the couple and even
those nearby. I feel lifted.
The warmth all but overwhelming!
In the air long after the couple leaves,
so I can’t help but remark on it when
Walter comes back with coffee and
Danish for us both.
“Yeah, Lou such a peach, everybody
instantly loves him. That atmosphere
enveloped you. Not that you’re
NOT nice! As am I. But the two of us
NOT nice! As am I. But the two of us
wouldn’t make one Lou!”
Pretty great when you get love and
not studied diffidence.
I’ve had some opportunities to be Lou again and jumped at them!
And yeah I know it’s wrong, unmeasured, and I’m being
ridiculous!
But now his girlfriend, Melody, has
insinuated the picture offering to
instruct me.
We’ve been out a few times.
She is mega mega cute!
Well...okay..so...I know!
Short of it is
JUST CAN’T STOP!
Labels: ambient, bureaucracy, identity, love, sex, warmth
Friday, September 21, 2018
French Question
Will the Republicans
Tartuffe up
to save the sordid ass
of yet another one?
Labels: comedy, Conservative, French Comedy, politics, religious hypocrisy, Republican, Supreme Court, Tartuffe
Thursday, September 20, 2018
BALL
most always did.
Countering tons of sheer American-Horseshit, neither place had any discernible effect on my character,
which alternated between timidity
and mindless brass.
and mindless brass.
My new First Baseman, JJ, stood for
no such alternation in himself!
Young Mr Perfect!
Soft, Super Polite, always the right words. I couldn’t be him to my shame, and
therefore couldn’t receive the neighborhood association
trophies he did.
trophies he did.
Following season, SURPRISINGLY, considerably less of a paragon at First Base. The Swarthy One!
WHERE’S JJ? Moved? I ask him.
Yeah, to Convalescence!
Total Nervous Breakdown! he went on,
and family has money.
What’s that? Total WHAT? ask I.
What you think it is.
Well...so...J Jreturns NEXT season.
Hairball departs.
Hairball departs.
Mr Perfect again at First Base!
Will he again go crazy?
Initial game back, extra innings
impinging twilight.
Becomes up to me to save it...ball
sharply bounding, I stretch, leap,
sharply bounding, I stretch, leap,
tumble in a cloud
of retching,
darkening dust.
darkening dust.
SOMEHOW in my glove! Hop up,
throw to J, not my usual rainbow
arc, though, a laser!
Hey! So I’m the Hero this time and
not him!
I see that stitched ball spinning
very softly now...
so so
many years past...
Bright
above
and shadowed
under…
traversing
pain.Labels: adolescence, anxiety, Baseball, fear
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
So?
Male and female at once.
Thanked her parents frequently--though
both gone now.
She liked being male at restless night...
harmless enough little fellow.
Lately, post midnight visits to HOT DOG
EMPORIUM, only place open.
“Emporium!” laughed waitress, Irenee once, skating fast.
So dimpled and cute: “Will that be all, Sir?”
It was till it wasn’t.
Now is Irenee showering.
Then emerging in huge fluffy robe
one, Carl, had given Brendan, snowy.
“When I die,” sighs Irenee, “I hope it’s in this robe!”
Brendan has put eye makeup in the pocket, because of
earlier complaints of eyes like pissholes in the snow!
earlier complaints of eyes like pissholes in the snow!
“You know? I can’t face getting dressed for that fancy-fruity-healthy hotel breakfast. Could WE…?”
“I make smashing French Toast!”
“Butter?”
“Rivers!”
Both women laugh, but, of course, Brendan is waiting for Irenee to note that it’s hardly a man’s apartment.
She can’t really wait. “You...naturally know that I’m a woman?”
“So?”
Labels: female, male, role playing, Romance
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Cultural Incident
When the Great Beauty
farts
isn’t much
to say.
Not Gross You
after all!
Monday, September 17, 2018
Ways of Getting
Things had gone well.
My documents in order.
Trencher Osgood proved
silently efficient, showing
me three views of my face.
Equally awful.
Chose the first, pop-eyed
rendition.
“Friends’ll laugh,” bit off Osgood.
But since the Merriweathers and
Henslaws moved, I had none.
I didn’t say this last, but he replied
to it anyway, “Nothing to me!”
Whereupon all the computers
in all the cubicles slammed off,
as if cued by the lady on crutches
in fluorescent Daffy Duck Pajamas
now dragging herself into our cubicle.
Hissing “You DARE come here again!”
All the computers snapped to half-power,
with Patriot Boys singing The Battle
Hymn of the Republic.
Hymn of the Republic.
In the sickly light, Osgood’s face turned
hatefully furrowed. The woman screamed “How about our little daughter? Dreaming of playing
Field Hockey for Bryn Mawr College?”
Field Hockey for Bryn Mawr College?”
“I don’t KNOW you!” screamed I back.
Mr Osgood’s face became instantly caring
in palpable affection.
in palpable affection.
“You must! To escape from here!”
“I LOVE OUR DAUGHTER!” I told
the whole department then.
Mums brought: red for Ms Daffy Duck,
yellow for me.
At any rate, seven hundred dollars
later, I was home with an honorary
Field Hockey stick, highly highly
varnished.
And my new driver’s license.
Labels: bureaucracy, bureaucratic nightmare, Driver's License, Field Hockey
