Dear Poggio:
You must not challenge your constitution so bravely. You know what Aunty Valentine always said. Tis better to fart and bear the shame, than not to fart and bear the pain. Your peristalsis has always been a tick speedy. I understand about not engaging. It's like Kayne West, or Obama - you can only handle so much fanfare. You are the undisputed king of central florida suffering. Why wouldn't they want you to preach at her 7-11 deathkick.
But back to me, I'm struck by Solzhenitsyn. Never has my rebellion abandoned and disavowed so much. I wish I had more for you. Alas, it's just another Weird Al parody. I'm sorry you had to see that woman die at Sheetz the other day. And stop challenging Lorenzo to poetry duels, agita, madness, if we lay down our arms, then how elst we fight? (we don't?, you're crazy man, I love you but you are c r a zy.
Loreznzo Ardea: Late Winter, Florida, Spring 16’
She fell and acted dead, like she may have hit her head,
and I’d just stop to take a poop, it was the one stop on my route, that didn’t purse my dookie chute,
so I’ll be damned if this grey whore, is going to block that bathroom door, there’s two things now for sure, and only one involves my bowel, and the other is someone’s nana is dead there on that floor, so are you happy now? Are you, happy now?
I didn’t want to handle her, I had three more at the farm.
And it didn’t really help, that they were stepping over her
she was an angel wanting smokes, and now they made her death a joke,
I’m sure your coffee can mind the wait, and your snide joke can remain unsung, the only true thing happening here, is between this corpse, this bowl, and me.
so are you? You happy now?
What’s wrong with Pastor Willy’s legs? I think he may have broke his back, why does he waddle to and fro,
Oh god, are we going to have to stay?, and tell the cops what happened here? because I don’t know where to start, my day is ruined as you can see, I wouldn’t blame you if you leaved. I heard an old man giving rites, to a stranger he barely knew, all while going number 2. So are you? Are you happy now? Are you?
Happy Now.
(1) I owe so many people for this poem. Richard Shindell, whatever that brutal divorce was that made you right that tune - Are You Happy Now. To that crazy bitch that took the spice and the candy when she left. To my brother and his strange ways.
READERS NOTE: This poem is best rendered whilst ingraining the rhythm, patterns of Richard’s song above. Don’t sue me. Poetry barely pays the bills. lol.
(2) - I once thought my poems were lost for the ages, now I realize.
