Sunday, January 22, 2012

Our Lamentations

winter quarters, Tom Mix Circus (1934-1938), C...Image by lumierefl via Flickr

By James Jarvis

Carl is a man

who's seen what happens

when you piss God off.

(Lamentations 3:1-16)

First hand.

Up close and personal.

He's about as popular in heaven

as a hair in a southern-fried biscuit.

Crazy as a soup sandwich.

Horny and mean and

quick with a straight razor;

in his mid-fifties I would guess,

'cause of his shiny shoes.

Old men always shine their shoes.

Carl loaned me one a his hounds tooth jackets

and a pair of green sharkskin pants

so I wouldn't embarrass him;

He'd have enough trouble keeping the young brothers off me

without the hindrance

of sartorial embarrassment.

I had stolen one a my roommate's fedoras

while he was takin' his nightly ninety minute shower,

tipped out the room

and it was on.

We was rollin' down Western

like two old G's from Compton,

South Central bar hopping,

pocos pero locos,

lookin' ta run some bitches,

some hookers

and some hoes.

Didn't matter which,

'slong as it was true split tail

and painted.

Two old G's from Compton;

one black, one white.

'Cept Carl's from Cheecaga

and I immigrated from Texas.

And instead of a Cadillac,

all we had ta ride was my roommate's Crapmobile;

an '84 primer gray Oldsmobile

with Oagum scratches up one side

and a tattered American flag droopin' off the radio antennae

on the other side.

(We parked 'round back

whenever we got somewhere.)

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