Thing Write
A clown is only worth his banjo skills.
Even the songbirds have their sadness.
If you stay positive you can see lights in your teeth.
My brain takes a sponge and squeezes until there’s no more pudding.
It would be nice if peace was a piece of paper.
I see the way things are with evil men.
They have the same hair cut and eat the same pies.
I’m a garter snake smiling at the Sun.
I swim in the park and drown in the wind.
I like the way this is going said the smeller to the salt.
I can crawl along the sidewalk with a gun and smell the flowers if I want.
Itching is no fun.
Scratching is fun.
The shadows talk of despair but the light says everything is done already.
Giggly chipmunks are dangerous so wear your boots.
Let the wind speak of its own travels and I’ll sit tight waiting for bingo.
Pumpkins smile at the evil in the smoke.
My brain has claws.
Far away is my ghost.
Solo drums are best when they can see if you are watching.
Zippers are a way of saying maybe.
Wishing for new cigarettes is like staying on the bed when the cat already ran away.
Giggling friends see a new pattern on the wall paper then eat potatoes with a fork.
Belly laughs are better for bingo.
Change the way you think until the aliens let go.
Up in the air is where the care bears stare at their hair.
Begin with the scotch and end with the peanuts.
Zippers are a new strategy for telling the other folks it’s not a buffet.
Tango and Cash let it rip when the old ways died hard.
Hot stuff will be more stable if horses can whisper their needs to the frigid underwear.
Zen is madness in the garden if the flies eat the spinach.
Play the game with a smile and see if the can of beans will open.
Forever is a long time to take your own special forces test.
Open the first thing that comes to the park and see the elephant move the mosquito.
I like to see the bottom of the stars from my bed.
Only the lonely will wash a window in the car.
Zip up that fly and quit talking to xenophobes unless they have a lot of money.
New toys with towlines are the boats in the ocean and write their own songs.
You will find what you’re looking for in the dress of love under the heart of stone.
Banjos cost a lot of money but they gain much respect.
The Prose Game
I want to win the big prize
My ego assumes I will
I’m afraid to like other people’s stuff
Because then they will win
But if I don’t
No one will like mine
If I can move your heart
You’ll vote for me over yourself
Unless you’re a shallow as I am
Because the truth moves hearts
Better than cleverness.
Crazy Luck
In high school I had two lucky weeks which started from a drawing to own our ex-cop, disciplinarian Vice-Principle as a slave. The first name he drew was one of the most popular and mischievous kids. He threw that ticket in the garbage. He then pulled out my name and one of the secretaries said I was a nice kid, who stayed out of trouble, and he said, “I’ve never heard of him, so he’ll do.” When he was my slave I placed a soft recliner from the drama department on a trash cart and had him wheel my throne into the cafeteria announcing me. I told him to set the cart next to a table of boys, including the popular kid he rejected. I ordered him to say “good morning Mr. so and so” to each. I hand cuffed him to the cart and pulled out a bull whip. Of course I didn’t hit him but the whole place roared.
A week later I got into a fight. A kid was picking on all the other kids during P.E. When we went into the locker room to change I started talking trash. He tried to politely calm me down, but I wouldn’t stop threatening. He punched me and I fought back. After a minute I had a righteous black eye. He apologized and tried to walk away, but I hit him again. He had no choice but to keep fighting. Eventually the other boys broke it up. I attempted to go back to class with my face more than a little rearranged. The Vice-Principle smiled at me, then at the circle of boys around the other kid. He and I both got A.E. for two weeks.
A week later our high school basketball team played an exhibition at The Summit, home of the Houston Rockets. I went with my Uncle and Sister. My Sister got angry because my ticket was between her and him. She threw a fit and insisted we trade. My Uncle said “okay, but that means you have to swap tickets.” I didn’t fight back because I didn’t care. At half time they had a drawing and pulled my new ticket number. My Uncle laughed at her as I headed down to take three free throws and a half court shot for $25,000. When I walked out, my entire senior class, who were in the same area as my Uncle and Sister, realized it was me and went wild because even the nose bleed section could see my shiner. I made the third free throw and thousands of fans exploded because the kid with the black eye, who they also knew was from the visiting high school, made one. I didn’t make the half court shot.
The next day at school, the popular kid whose name was originally drawn for the Vice-Principle, put his arm around me and said, “This has got to be the most exciting two weeks of your life.”