The Squat on Good Fortune Street by A.E. Plastic
A.E. Plastic June 28, 2009 at 11:41PM
was:
- (as I later wrote)
a cross between
a lost property office
and the lair
of Dr. Fu Manchu
- a shaded gooseneck
from the all-nite pharmacy
where you purchased
your maquillage and
extra- strength Tylenol
-where we conjoined
in Rajan’s borrowed bed
like muscles in spasm
he professing carryingly
that it didn’t bother him
if we left stains
You’re not ghosts after all
later he whispered
My turn will come
to screw her too
though he was strung-out by then
on “Be the real you
through Self-Hypnosis”
-where your compeers
hovered like Hindu gods
over somersaulting dice
and in the cum of victory
flashed their teeth
like carving-knives
-where Rajan knocked out
chequered renditions of
“Light my Fire”
on his baby mellotron
choking on dispraise
a premonition
of his final huff
-where my beetle-browed refusal
to work the Schrodinger ticket scam
on the London Underground
became a crow-bar of misgiving
sometimes (as I later wrote)
it’s only recklessness that pays
Reader Comments (2)
i really love 'be the real you through self-hypnosis'. where can i buy it? the rest of the poem has a film noir charm about it too. i query 'carryingly', since i don't know what you mean by it.
it seemed to have the right tidbit, at the right time
to hold my interest.
some of the line brevity
may not serve the piece well, I was thinking
upon first and second read.