Friday, September 16, 2016

 

King’s English


-We were three Polacks who stunk.

Too much physical work and not 
enough showers. And in comes this Brit! 

Saville Fuckin Row!

-Lost?

-Oxford accent, rolled umbrella! Hired him
on the spot!

-In what capacity?

-None.

-What did he do?

-Nothing.

-All for Class?

-Looked and sounded so nice! Civilized.

-Well, he must’ve had SOME talent!

-Like in the Bible, kept it under a basket?

--All that money paid to…!

-Just five years. Then we retired him
with as much pomp as General Macarthur!

-Good riddance!--to the Brit, not Douglas.

-I miss him!

-However could you…?”

-No talent and no work: where’s the threat?










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Wednesday, May 08, 2013

 
Our earlobes flare

out from the skull. It’s
how you can tell us.

When we go home, some
exclaim, “Oh it's EFs!
A thousand welcomes!”

As teens enthuse
“So-O cool!”

Others sneer “You fuckin low-
life despicable EFs better
watch your backs!”

We tell them Land of Free
and Home of Brave can
do better. They answer that

when they hear those words
from us, they reach for their guns,

since we’re turning revered
concepts rancid. 3-M

devises an invisible tape.
Some of us become acceptable

with it. Temporary step–-or so
our leaders assure. My two best
friends have already become Flats,

landed good jobs. Teppy waves cash
around after his first pay. “Does THIS
look like psychological damage?”

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