Cover of Cheech MarinHere is some crap I wrote that is one of my favorites. I wrote it back when I was working at an Arco gas station and was generally known as "Crusty, The Stockboy." The movie mentioned, "Juan Pistolas" is a classic. My prose is about a guy who used to come in and chat with me while I was mopping the floors because, I guess, he had nowhere else to go...or no one else to listen to him.
Capon
by Jolie Blond
01/27/02
He imagines his life to have been like
the opening scene of "Juan Pistolas":
leading the peasants in revolution
up to the gates of the patron,
just to have them drop their weapons and run away
at the first shot.
There he stands,
abandoned;
abandoned by the moral cowards
who moments before
were puffing themselves up
with false bravado and pretended fearlessness . . .
and puffing him up with their promises
to fight to the end for the cause.
Abandoned by the people.
And most importantly,
abandoned once again
by that bitch Justice.
Or so I imagine
when I listen to the man who comes in to the Arco
every Saturday night
to buy a few lottery tickets,
maybe a cup of coffee,
and talk to the clerk on duty . . .
whomever that may be. . .
for a few hours.
Tonight it was me.
This man who comes to talk to strangers
on Saturday nights
looks like every negative Mexican stereotype.
He talks like Cheech Marin
back in Cheech's drug humor days.
He looks dangerous, this man,
like the kind of chollo
who would carry a straight razor in his pant cuff.
This dangerous looking man
who comes to talk to strangers
on Saturday nights
also looks like the kind of man
who would unhesitatingly jump into the fray
and help the Arco clerk out
if a gang of bad guys came in
and tried to take over the store.
So the Arco gas station clerks let him talk
while they ring up gas sales and mop the floor.
He talks about the car repair jobs he takes on the side
to supplement his regular job.
He talks about gangs and his drug days
and his thieving, dishonest employers
and the steady stream of Little Hitlers
his employers always hire above him,
Hitlers hired to manage his work,
breathe down his neck
and pick at the nits
like dickless bottom level managers
are wont to do.
He talks about which of the Little Hitlers
he has punched in the nose
and which other ones he should've
and how the system always finds a way
to chop off his balls.
He is a capon, this man, a rooster immasculated,
struggling against the patron's frying pan.
Come, my fellow peasants,
come let us join Juan Pistolas
in the fight against the patron
and his frying pan.
Tags: art, homeless, fried chicken, Youtube, viral video, social video, marquisdejolie, Jolie Blond, poem, poet, poetry, spoken word, Juan Pistolas, peasants, revolution, patron, abandones, moral cowards, false bravado, justice, chollo, straight razor in the pants cuff, little Hitlers, strawbosses, immasculated, rooster, James Jarvis
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