Lips On the Tuba

when Bobby Messiah the new kid next door asked if I wanted to see his Silly Putty **** collection I know we were on the same page It was hidden in an old transistor radio of red plastic with a silver speaker grid in the shape of a human foot marred and curling on one corner where something had pierced a hole in it a suicide bullet from his ex-mom Bobby said and I believed him because Bobby was a natural born Fuhrer a 10 year old Genghis Kahn so opinionated he didn't even know how he got his opinions and I was a 9 year old breast feeder I would have ridden the axle of a 20 wheeler across the state line if he said it would prove I wasn't a mud humping butt boy it appeared to me a better bargain to be anything than nothing. I still hold the line on this position even though I write from prison with a new range of facial expressions thanks to Bobby's sense of impropriety and a pocket full of matches and the result of legal malpractice by my perfume counter mouthpiece not finding the magic combo told me I kept looking around too much to be taken for an empty seat wore a noose around my neck tendons more times than a fish has scales trying a little harder to separate what is inside from what is outside shuffling the index cards over and over I will describe it further this planet is an IQ test the contained has changed the shape of the container it may be a 49-51 kind of world kid but not everyone will clap and sing along and as long as them brittle mystic devil fire pickpockets think they have their lips on the tuba the free angels will sleep with a gun in their shorts for system redundancy's sake From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.site11.com/