Thursday, October 9, 2014

if an offense is just an opinion then an opinion shouldn’t be offensive


i’ve sat in physics classes

neurophysiology, philosophy

and none of them prepared me

for the hormonal changes

that occur in a pregnant woman

 

i’ve been asked to go out for awhile again

she handed me her mp3 player

when i asked what i was doing wrong

she advised, “you’re breathing”

 

plugs in my ears

project pitchfork plays pitch-black

i pass a store front window

there is nothing in the display

but a cloth doll

naked

hands tied behind it’s back

with course rope

 

i look again to confirm

i saw what i saw

then decide not to deal

and just keep walking

 

a bar, a barstool, a beer

 

then the man left of me starts to talk

liberals are ruining the country

(i just wanted a fucking beer)

but end up engaging by saying,

“Dostoyevsky wrote in The Dream of

a Ridiculous Man: All became so jealous

of the rights of their own personality

that they did their very utmost to curtail

and destroy them in others and made that

the chief thing in their lives”

 

“what the hell is that suppose to mean?!”

the drunk breathes

 

“all things mean whatever you make them mean”

i tell him

 

“dostoykeveky? sounds russian. are you a communists?”

 

(oh for god’s sake)

 

“i’m whatever you want me to be baby?”

 

“baby? are you a fag?”

 

“i’m whatever you need me to be in order

for you to just shut the fuck up and leave me alone”

 

he gets off his barstool and i admit

i am glad it has come to this

for i am off my seat and clock him

so hard it feels like i’ve broke my hand

 

and he just stands there

and suddenly all i am thinking is

“oh shit”

 

but the bouncers divide

send him out the front door

and me out the back

 

i wince at the pain in my hand

as i flick my bic

shake out my hand

exhale the smoke

and go in search of somewhere

i can have a beer

 

the mp3 abandons project pitchfork

and plays santa hates you

and i realize i don’t want anymore company

just to listen to this band

i go into a liquor store

buy a six pack of guinness

line my pockets with the bottles

use the bottle opener on my key chain

and walk and sip

and listen to the band sing,

“sleep until the moonlight

nothing’s gonna be alright”

 

***

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