Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Grocery Store Blues


Plastic Surgery Before and After

          For $2.50 you can buy a real cut of meat.  The hardest part is staying awake for the whole show.  A mosquito landed backwards on my brother’s shoulder, ladies waited in turquoise—wanted to show me something: a spider spidering up a butcher’s window.  The beef was getting lightheaded and said to the butcher, “Hey, take a break on me. I’m seeing spots.”
          “So go on,”the butcher said and pointed toward the door.
          The beef threw his white arm around the butcher's neck, legs dangling like a puppet “I can’t," he said. So the butcher lowered him back onto the rack. "Finish it,”he said, leaning back with a sigh.
          Then the butcher watched the butcher. I saw a knife swing through a mirror. 

Monday, July 2, 2012

S uperC uts

Jesús cleared his throat and stood up on a box.  he was theatrical, (some thought gay) “without further ado… and with the power endowed me by this fine cosmetic establishment, let me call to the front...” As chuckle-chuckled a childless uncle, smiling and shaking his head. (Jesus, I’m uncomfortable!) 

his finger trembled above a magazine. “Let’s see here.…ok….. Roger…” nobody responded.  He repeated louder, “ROGER” 

who rose, hung his cap on the rack and tottered his way to the cashier, as (doomed as driftwood,) the heads lowered in the waiting room like night at night. an old man, they thought. let him go. sure he signed in at the top of the list, but he doesn’t know these things−hardly any hair anyways, five minutes. in and out.

 A middle aged man with an oedipal inclination quickly panicked−(YOU FUCKED MY MOM) because you look like my dad.  Jesús 
washed Roger’s hair a long time, eventually forgetting he was thinking about gardening and not hair. (I’ll watch your hair go down the drain) he thought to himself while the nervous-uncle opted for the door: too on-edge to read Ebony (I’ll be a bald uncle tom- 
orrow.)  Meanwhile Harry the boy-looking teenager on the left side of the room flipped his hair (which smelled of sage thistles in milk, he thought) and stood up when the cosmetician Paul said, “Mary”. 

Then Roger spoke to Jesús. “gargle gargle gargle” as a dog barked from the park outside he rolled out of the chair and hit the floor with a thump. Mary blushed.  Jesús said fuck (I’ve drowned Roger) and gunned it for the door.  “Christ!” yelled Harry.  “Mary?” called Paul who overlooked Roger floating clean shaven out the door.