black acrylic paint i dont like to win but then again i hate to lose/& in between is something i cant stand/i dont care what you think & i hope that you approve/i am just an ordinary man-t bone burnett im told i need to talk to someone about getting in the witness protection program. i laugh. i think theyre joking. they laugh too, finally. it comes a second too late. a second to me is eternity. eternity is a blown fuse under the ivory. a drill coughs nervously. eventually it grinds to a halt. im not bleeding. i dont have a headache. i ask what happened. a man in a starched face & oversized white coat tells me theyre simply cleaning up what was left behind last time. i dont remember a last time. i dont remember any time. i say nothing. im not playing anybody/s straight man. he hands me a bill for services rendered. i crumble it up & pitch it over my shoulder. ive done all they asked of me. i havent deviated from the schedule, except when i lost track of the rest of my life. but thats an honest mistake. i have a long list. theyve all been honest mistakes. why would i lie about making a mistake. wouldnt i make some attempt to hide it. splash a bottle of black acrylic paint over my small corner of the big picture. scatter fallen leaves over the tally marks. make speeches from my front porch, where the roof is sagging, the hard rail shakes in the breeze, the floorboard groans my name despite my urgings to keep it down, to the wrens & sparrows that gather only because its rumored a half loaf of stale bread will follow my words. before i begin ill try to start a sing-a-long to stress my democratic principles. though last time i was scorched for espousing marxist theory. i try to wiggle a finger inside. none of them fit. left or right. i write myself a note to buy some spackle tomorrow. i stick it in my pocket. i hear truckloads of canned laughter. im no longer surprised.
Posted on: Mon, 26 May 2014 13:20:23 +0000