PONY GIRL or CHALUPA SUPREME?

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I’ve been thinking a lot about Meesshooo and her name. Forget that I can’t even spell it. I’ve done her wrong. Making her all about me instead of the clipty-clop wondrous flying PONY girl. It’s anosmic. I mean how would I like to be called MEIN HOOF? First we went to the vet for her HOT SPOT. Then to the empty sequestered park for big dogs ONLY but they never came. I looked at the trees. The memorial placards. Just on the other side of the fence was a raucous party of toy circus dogs. With a gay dog named BUDDY driving the herds with his doggie penis nobody could stop sniffing. After a half hour I asked a lady with a small shivering Chihuahua Terrier, permission. If we might be invited over, would she mind? Or were we too big? We had a good long chat by the fence but she wouldn’t budge. Her dog had mental problems she explained. It came from a litter of 30.

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A Hole In History

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Nothing reminds us more of Mother’s Day, and a woman’s role  –  as the hole in history then the life of the Staint Thais. 

A sensitive daughter. Orphaned by parents who died in tandem almost instantaneously. Fortunate to inherit money without the intercession of ancillary extended family. Or male foreign invaders. Her life was an exercise that the elders approved of, she never married and remained devoted to Christ and generosity. When pilgrims hiked past her estate they were invited to take shelter. If the poor were hungry she interceded. Unfortunately due to a failure in bookkeeping. She was suddenly without recompense and broke. The scriptures tell us she looked for secretarial work but lacked the strength and dexterity for cuneiform. She had become like all other women without money and an aversion to excessive housekeeping, job seeking and exposed. In those days the only fair wage was prostitution. 

When the Elder’s of Sketis learned of her transformation and courtesan ways they sent St John the Dwarf to fetch her. But he was rejected. His entry was barred. The Dwarf St John employed cunning and trickery, “Tell the mistress I have something precious for her.” Like what dickhead she might have wondered? But Thais had a weakness for shiny pearls and suspected the Elders might have a gift remembering the good in her. John the liar Dwarf was ushered in to see Thais and began weeping. “How can I not weep,” he asked, “when you have forsaken your Bridegroom, the Lord Jesus Christ, and are pleasing Satan by your deeds?” She accepted his offer, a sentence of 3 years hard labor. 15 days after her release she died. Now they call her Saint. 

Coconuts

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Back in Nam when the rations didn’t come thru, you lived off your coconuts. Some locals here use the meat and wellspring to avoid all forms of hard labor. If you know how to drain the nut, which an adept can do with a dull knife, you have everything you need. Deodorant even soap or bathing are unnecessary for the healthy jungle eater, although one’s clothes suffer from a sour dough mildew. My new guru Spicoli set up a lawn chair outback in the woods and fashioned himself a tent with rope hung out a like hammock between two trees. Plastic trash bags he picked up at the dump drape over his lawn chair and sleeping bag. He enjoys the song of the Kauai O’o Bird and has abandoned his car here, suggesting it’s part of a work trade. The details of what we get never quite hammered out. His forté is barefoot with a chainsaw, tree trimming stoned, but what if he falls and self amputates on my property, then what?

1.

I liked her, but I didn’t know her. A friend of a friend. Kind of punk and butch. An open face. I was distracted easy chatter when she took my arm and brought it to her lips. A gentle sucking. Light. I said what are you doing? Trying to give me a hickey? She left a tiny kissed outline. So light that when the knife came out I trusted her. I noticed the nose on the end of it turned up like a Persian slipper. A silver bead. Just an underline she said. For the blood sisterhood. But the knife was blunt. “DO IT!” I said. I had to close my eyes. She was too gentle and sawing. UGH and when I peeked there was a deep convex cone of flesh missing from my arm.

Middling

I asked Katie if I could sleep over.
She was my best friend.
When she got worms, I stopped going to the lavatory.
Snakes, macaroni and cheese, even Spaghetti
I quit.
We would watch TV but mostly pretend.
Walking each other thru various scenarios like a talking meditation.
Or a practice.
Pretend we bought an entire furniture store instead of a tiny mansion.
Her brother Mark started dropping in after lights out
wanting a back rub.
Katie did it until she got tired.
Then I Play-Dohed his shoulders.
In the middle of the night with the ocean waving.
He inched his fingers, touching me while I slept.
When he tried to put something inside of me –
from the center of him. I acted like I was waking up.
He wanted our middles to touch.

For sport I would

I want a penis

to practice guitar

full bodied explosions

I’ve heard

immediate sleep afterward

not just a better jerk

but the alleviation

of choked bar chords

and weak rhythm

if I could borrow for song

certain musculature

but then revert back

as fast as a serpent’s tongue

make a retraction

I would

Nests

My bifocals are on but I cannot concentrate. The cat is scratching, shaking me. Although I can’t see a thing even with my glasses on. I know at the end of all of my irritations is a flea. A plague I have dealt with and now is being further threatened by the mother in law. Who has summoned her son home back to the mainland. But we need to rip out the infested carpets. Now.

No poison works longer than 2 weeks with 6 cats. But of course to cancer us. I feel an irritation now growing and prickling up my back. I am the one afflicted.

Sitting

At “On the Rox” I was warned about Robin Williams. Which put me off. Not off of him, but of the person who said it.  I took it as gossip. But it was a probably a consideration. One doesn’t want to alienate the patrons. Or lose their job. 

Among the “A” listers at the private club on Sunset, he wasn’t primarily known for his comic genius. 

Book was he was a pest. Tireless in his pursuit of drugs. Dangerously shameless, asking strangers even for a line of coke. Attention seeking, needy, and the last person to leave the party. 

I would have preferred hearing that Robin was highly energetic. That I should be mindful of containing the noise. Remember it’s invitation only. Don’t attract paparazzi, party crashers, or the police. 

He immediately launched into teasing me. Mocking the bartender and her nasal voice. His schtick wasn’t personal, it didn’t even sting. His compass was way off. Valley Girl?  And there I was starving for a roasting, not a caricature. 

I tried to feign a smile. Everyone else was howling. In retrospect I wonder what I was expecting a psychic? I should have been honored to be his straight man. But I wasn’t content.