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/
Copyright © Walter Alter | Year Posted 2017
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